My mother had been ill for years, her only wish to witness her daughter’s wedding. For this, I pursued Liam for five years. On the hundredth time he turned me down, I finally decided to give up. I then turned to Ethan, my childhood friend who had always waited for me. We were deeply in love for a hundred days, and he promised to make me the happiest bride in the world. Just when I joyfully believed I had finally found happiness, I overheard his conversation with Sarah. “As long as you and Liam can be happy, it doesn’t matter if I marry someone I don’t love.” “Let me arrange your last birthday party. I want to see you happy with my own eyes, even if the one making you happy isn’t me.” It turned out the wedding he meticulously planned for me was nothing but a deception. A hundred days of pretense, merely to clear the path for Sarah and the man she loved. Tears streamed down my face. I messaged Mom, telling her the wedding was off. I don’t know how she learned the truth, but in her distress, she passed away on the spot. The funeral and Sarah’s wedding coincidentally fell on the same day, at the same hotel. Just a wall away, Ethan entered as a groomsman, caught a fleeting glimpse, and his face instantly went ashen… 1 By the time Mom’s arrangements were handled, night had fallen. When I returned home, Ethan hadn’t arrived yet. My phone only showed a message from him, saying he had to postpone the wedding. Before I knew the truth, he said it was due to issues with the props, and I believed him. But now I understood. The postponement was merely for Sarah’s birthday party. She had booked the venue. All the guests originally invited to my wedding were now celebrating Sarah’s birthday. My dream wedding had utterly become a joke. The man who once argued and fell out with Liam for me, who promised me happiness forever. He, too, became an accomplice in hurting me. The moment I received the hospital’s call, I rushed there, but couldn’t even say goodbye to Mom. I don’t want this wedding anymore, and I don’t want Ethan anymore either. Just as I finished packing my bags, Ethan hurried in with a gift. He didn’t notice the suitcase by the door. He instinctively pulled me into his embrace, his voice soft and tender, whispering against my ear: “My dearest Amy, guess what gift I brought back for you?” Before I could speak, he kissed my earlobe. I subtly avoided his touch, my gaze falling on the gift box in his hand. A designer perfume, Sarah’s favorite scent. But I never wore perfume; I was allergic to alcohol. He had always forgotten that. “Would you wear this on our wedding day? I want to smell you.” He was looking for Sarah’s shadow in me again. First it was clothes and jewelry, then cosmetics and handbags. Back then, I just thought the items he sent looked familiar. But only when I accidentally opened Sarah’s social media did I realize she had identical items. Also from Ethan. Noticing my low spirits, his voice softened further. “Is my Amy still upset about the wedding postponement? Don’t worry, I’ve already straightened them out. There won’t be any more delays this time.” “I’ll explain to your aunt, you don’t need to worry.” A cold smile touched my lips. “No need to trouble yourself. Let’s just cancel the wedding. You don’t have to see my mother; she wouldn’t want to hear your explanation anyway.” He hadn’t expected me to be so resolute. His movements froze for a moment, a flicker of displeasure in his eyes. “Amy, I’ve been planning this wedding for three months. The invitations have all been sent out. How can you joke like this?” “The prop mishap was an accident; I’ve tried my best to fix it. I understand you’re upset, but don’t be unreasonable. My patience has its limits too.” Watching him lie so shamelessly, I felt a wave of weariness. “Ethan, was it really just a prop malfunction?” He paused for a second, about to argue, when his phone rang. He looked down, a faint smile unconsciously curving his lips. Without saying goodbye, only promising to make it up to me, he rushed out of the house. I didn’t need to guess; only Sarah could make him so frantic with a single message. This wasn’t the first time he’d abandoned me. But before, immersed in the joy of impending marriage, I hadn’t noticed. Now, looking back, he didn’t even bother to hide it. After he left, I gathered all the gifts he had given me over the past hundred days. I planned to return them to him the next day. But early in the morning, I received a call from the bridal shop. They said my custom wedding dress had arrived and I should come for a fitting. “No need. Return it. The wedding’s canceled.” The sales clerk on the other end hesitated for two seconds, then spoke hesitantly: “This is a high-end custom dress. The deposit alone was five hundred thousand. If you wish to cancel, you’ll need to come to the store in person to fill out the paperwork.” When I arrived, just after I signed the forms, I saw another, even more exquisite wedding gown being brought in. The clerk’s envious voice immediately reached my ears. “Miss Sarah is so fortunate! I’ve never seen such an expensive wedding dress before! It must be millions, right?” “More than that! I heard two men paid for it together! Oh, when will such good fortune come to me…” 2 My nails dug deep into my palm, clutching the pen, but I couldn’t even feel the pain. When I went to Ethan’s office with a box full of gifts, the receptionists kept calling me “Mrs. Hayes.” Envious whispers rose and fell. “Mrs. Hayes, didn’t you know? Mr. Hayes took a whole month off for your wedding, something he’s never done before!” “I heard he spent half a million at an auction for a piece of jewelry. It must be to match your wedding dress. You’re so lucky, I can only dream of such things.” “I’ve never seen Mr. Hayes so devoted to anyone! He revised the wedding plan dozens of times!” But I wrote our wedding plan myself; he never asked about it. That plan was probably revised for Sarah, wasn’t it? I didn’t speak, silently listening to everything he did for another woman. While waiting for the elevator, Sarah’s playful voice came from behind me. She unreservedly linked arms with Ethan. “Ethan, thank you for the jewelry, but it’s really too much! My neck almost can’t hold up!” Ethan affectionately tapped her nose, messing up her long hair. “You little rascal, didn’t you say the bigger the jewelry, the better, to give Liam some sense of urgency?” In an instant, the air around us almost solidified. The employees looked at me with a hint of mockery. Ethan finally noticed me, but still didn’t let go of Sarah’s hand, his gaze merely growing colder. “Why are you here? Didn’t I tell you not to come to the office? Your presence distracts the staff.” Catching sight of the box in my arms, he frowned. “Why are you still holding a pile of rubbish? Security? Can’t you see? Quickly, throw it away.” I followed his gaze downward, only then realizing that the brand logo on the packaging box, which I hadn’t dared to unwrap, was peeling. It turned out everything he gave me was fake. No wonder he didn’t recognize them. Before I could speak, a security guard had already snatched the box from my hands and deftly tossed it into the trash. Liam rushed in through the door, witnessing this scene. His face instantly darkened. “Ethan, your wife is standing right here, and you’re embracing my fiancée. Isn’t that inappropriate?” Sarah immediately let go. A flash of hurt crossed Ethan’s eyes. “You still remember Sarah is your fiancée? Then why were you messaging another woman in the middle of the night?” “You swore to me repeatedly that you would take good care of her, which is why I entrusted Sarah to you. But how have you done? And now you have the nerve to question me?” As he finished speaking, Sarah suddenly looked up at me, tears welling in her eyes. “Amy, I know you and Ethan have been childhood friends, but since you’ve already accepted Ethan’s proposal, why are you still entangled with Liam?” I froze for a moment, realizing I had sent him a wedding invitation. Just as I was about to speak, Ethan’s accusatory gaze stung me. “You don’t trust me?” He didn’t respond to my words, but the disgust in his eyes deepened. In an instant, all the unspoken grievances choked back. Liam’s words became the last straw that broke me. “I told you, I don’t like Amy. I never did, I don’t now, and I never will.” “You are the only one in my heart.” His public humiliation and undisguised disdain made me want to disappear. Sarah’s eyes were clearly filled with triumph, yet on the surface, she cried out pitifully. Leaving only a single sentence: “I don’t believe your nonsense. You two are childhood friends; I’m an outsider. No matter how hard I try, I can’t be a part of your past! I’m just a burden!” And then she ran out. Liam shot me a warning glance, then hurried after her. In the vast hall, only Ethan and I remained. “Amy, this time you’ve gone too far. You know Sarah is insecure, why did you have to send that message to Liam?” “Let’s break up.” “What??” He seemed unable to believe his ears, frowning and widening his eyes. “I said, let’s break up. The wedding’s off. I won’t marry you, and I won’t bother Liam anymore. You can rest assured.” A flicker of surprise and relief quickly passed through his eyes. But on his face, he still looked heartbroken. “Amy, what are you being so ridiculous about? The wedding’s already halfway planned. Don’t you know how hurtful it is to joke like this?” “I know you’re anxious because your aunt is seriously ill. Let’s just cool off separately for a while before the wedding.” With those words, he got into the elevator without looking back. I also turned and left the company. The goodbyes had been said; the rest was none of my concern. 3 Upon returning, I hastily rented an apartment and prepared to move. But then Sarah came knocking. Her face was full of triumph, a stark contrast to her demeanor in front of Ethan and Liam. Her high-heeled foot directly stomped on my suitcase. “You’re really tough, aren’t you? Your own mom died and you still won’t leave? Can’t live without a man?” My movements froze, my fists immediately clenched, shaking with anger. “How did you know?” I hadn’t told anyone about my mother’s death. Remembering the letter she received before she passed, my gaze instantly turned icy. “You wrote that letter?” “You’ve already got Liam; why are you doing this?” A sneering smile played on her lips, and she let out a cold snort. “I just felt sorry for the old woman, couldn’t bear for her to be deceived, so I simply clarified the facts.” “Let her understand that her daughter is worthless trash no one wants. Who knew she couldn’t handle such a small blow? Really getting useless in her old age!” I could no longer contain the hatred in my heart, raising my hand and delivering a sharp slap across her face. After a crisp sound, her smile grew even more sinister. She pulled a pair of scissors from her bag. And deftly cut off a lock of her own hair. The moment the scissors clattered to the floor, I was violently slammed against the wall by someone rushing from behind. The pain left me almost numb. Yet, Ethan’s anxious voice rang in my ears. “Sarah, where are you hurt? Does it hurt?” Sarah was sobbing uncontrollably, covering her swollen cheek and shaking her head. “Ethan, please don’t blame Amy. I know she’s angry I took Liam, and she didn’t mean it. My hair is fine; it doesn’t matter, I’ll just tie it up for the wedding…” By the time I recovered, Ethan had already picked up the scissors from the floor and was walking towards me with a dark expression. “Amy, apologize to Sarah!” I looked at him in disbelief. “Are you insane? Do you know what she did? She killed my mom—” Before I could finish, he sharply interrupted. “No matter what she did, you shouldn’t have laid a hand on her! When did you become like this?” “I’ll say it one last time, apologize!” I never imagined that after twenty-five years, he would deny me even a chance to explain, all for another woman. Blood seeped from the corners of my lips, yet I gritted my teeth and spoke: “Impossible! Hitting her was letting her off easy, otherwise I—” Ethan slapped me across the face. Cutting off my words, and cutting off my last shred of hope for him. “Amy, I’ve indulged you too much. You’re simply too disobedient…” He brutally struck me on the head with the luggage-filled box. The next second, I fainted from the pain. 4 When I woke up again, Ethan had moved me to the bedroom bed. My waist-length hair was completely shorn, leaving only patchy, ugly scalp. Tears fell uncontrollably, stinging like fire as they ran down my face. I scrambled to the bathroom, looked in the mirror, and saw the multiple slaps had left their mark on my face. My nails had torn my skin, and thick scabs of dried blood had formed. I fought back tears, searching the entire room, but couldn’t find my packed luggage. Going downstairs, I discovered the suitcase had been thrown into the trash can. I didn’t bother to retrieve it, turning and leaving the complex. Enduring the strange glances of passersby, I entered a pharmacy and bought a box of masks. After covering my scars, the tears still wouldn’t stop flowing. I hid in the rented apartment like a rat in a gutter for three days. Only on the day of my mother’s funeral did I venture out, wearing a mask. As I arrived at the hotel entrance, I saw Sarah and Liam’s wedding photo. I suppressed the hatred in my heart and turned into the private room next door. Dressed in funeral attire, I listened to the eulogy. Just a wall away, a grand wedding was being held. Midway, I went to the restroom, but on my return, I ran into Sarah. Seeing my funeral attire, her eyes immediately reddened with feigned sorrow. “Amy, I know you hate me for taking Liam, but you can’t wear funeral clothes to my wedding!” Her shouts attracted the attention of many passersby. In a blink, I was drowned in a torrent of curses. “This woman is too malicious, isn’t she? If you can’t get the man, don’t curse others to die!” “Born without a mother’s care, no wonder Mr. Thorne didn’t fancy her! Such a venomous heart!” “Since we’re here, shouldn’t we support Mr. Thorne and Mrs. Thorne? Come on, everyone, let’s strip off her funeral clothes!” Before I could explain, people swarmed forward, trying to tear off my clothes. Someone snatched off my hat, revealing my patchy scalp. Laughter erupted instantly, and I screamed, clutching my head, begging them to return my hat. But no one listened. Flashbulbs targeted my head, capturing frantic photos. I stumbled into the funeral room, utterly humiliated. The door was forced open, and the white scene inside made them stop. Ethan, as a groomsman, rushed over at the commotion. “What’s going on? The wedding is next door; you’ve come to the wrong place.” His voice, initially meant to maintain order, died in his throat the moment he saw my mother’s name on the funeral banner. All color drained from his face. “Amy? What in the world is going on? Why are you here?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394830”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The day before my wedding, my boyfriend went cycling to relax. That evening, I saw an update from his childhood friend on social media. “Successfully checked in for the 165th day of cycling! Exhausted during the day, so it’s time to truly unwind tonight.” In the photo, a mirror reflected a room with a strong atmospheric vibe. In a corner next to it, a man was undressing, and on his exposed waist, a vibrant, dark rose tattoo bloomed. I don’t know what someone commented, but she replied, “Hehe, ever heard of seven times a night?” I quietly liked the post and commented, “Sounds good. Have fun.” 1 After commenting, before I could calm down, Harry called. As soon as I answered, a barrage of accusations came through. “Sharing a room was arranged by the cycling captain. Everyone’s assigned that way. Don’t make trouble out of nothing.” “And, as a fellow woman, why are you so malicious? Olivia, you’re truly disgusting.” Hearing his full-on accusations, my breathing hitched, and a dull ache spread through my chest. He had said that morning that he was feeling heavy-hearted and wanted to relax one last time before the wedding, and he promised he’d be back soon. But by evening, I had cooked dinner and waited for him, only for him to say that the cycling team was having a party tonight, and as vice-captain, he couldn’t get away. He wouldn’t be back until tomorrow. He had also told me to wait patiently at home, and he would pick me up for the wedding venue on time tomorrow. Now, however, everything felt utterly repulsive. I took a deep breath and asked him, “Is it against the law for guys in your team to stay with other guys?” It was a perfectly normal question, yet on the other end, I heard choked sobs. “Since Olivia doesn’t like me, I’ll leave right now, Harry. You don’t have to worry about me.” Harry instantly bristled, his voice deep and stern: “Don’t mind her. She’s going through menopause.” With that, he hung up directly, not waiting for me to speak. Staring at the screensaver that reappeared from the call page, the air around me seemed to turn bitter. His words were like ice-cold water infused with a thousand years of frost, rushing at me, extinguishing all my hopes and joy. A man and a woman, alone in a room. I dared not imagine what might happen. Because the more I thought, the more disgusted I felt. As things stood, marriage was out of the question. I looked at the wedding room I had meticulously decorated bit by bit, a self-deprecating smile on my face. I had thought marriage was a matter for two, but now it seemed I was the only one immersed in a beautiful dream I had woven for myself. I took a deep breath and took off the traditional gown. Then I took out a suitcase from the wardrobe and packed my clothes. Once packed, I sent him a message, “Let’s break up.” Message sent. I deleted his contact information one by one. As if doing so could completely erase him from my world. I didn’t go home; instead, I found a hotel to stay in. Whatever happened next, it had nothing to do with me. The next day, I was still sound asleep when my phone on the bedside table rang urgently. I picked it up and saw it was a call from my mom. After a moment’s thought, I answered, and a barrage of accusations followed. “Olivia, where have you and Harry been messing around? Why haven’t you come to the hotel yet? His phone is also unreachable. What in the world is going on with you two?” Hearing this, I was stunned for a moment. 2 I quickly realized he must have been too engrossed in pleasure last night, perhaps overly exhausted. I pursed my lips and told her, “Harry and I broke up. The wedding is off.” “What nonsense are you talking about? Get your butt over here right now!” Just as I expected, my mom didn’t approve of my decision to break up. She insisted I find Harry and go back to have the wedding. Hearing her furious scolding, I remained quite calm, “Don’t even think about the wedding. He’s seeing someone else.” At this, she paused. There was a moment of silence on the other end, then she said, “Then come back, and we’ll talk properly.” I hummed in response, hung up, and got up to wash. After I was done, Harry sent me a message using someone else’s phone. He completely ignored my breakup message from last night, selfishly stating: “You were too much yesterday. You made that girl cry for a long time. It took me ages to calm her down. When we get back, you need to treat her to dinner and apologize.” “As for the wedding, consider this a punishment for you. Next time, don’t bully people so casually.” Looking at his message, my eyes filled with mockery. What did I do to make him think I couldn’t live without him? I lowered my head and replied, “We’ve already broken up. What you do has nothing to do with me. Don’t contact me again.” After sending the message, I blocked that number as well. Done with that, I took my luggage and checked out of the hotel. When I got home, my mom was still pacing angrily in the living room. I thought she was on my side, standing up for me, so I said softly, “Mom, don’t be angry. I’ve broken up with him. We won’t have anything to do with each other ever again.” These words were like lighting a fuse. My mom instantly flared up, glaring at me with disappointment. “Because of such a small matter, you want to break up? When you’re being unreasonable, did you ever think about where I’d put my face?” Hearing this, I froze, looking at her with wide eyes and utter astonishment. It turned out her anger wasn’t because of Harry’s despicable actions, but because I had decisively broken up with him. In an instant, my whole body started trembling uncontrollably. “Mom, are you saying I should just tolerate it?” “What else? It’s normal for men to be unfaithful. You’re the one he’s about to marry. Why bother with those common mistresses outside?” My mom earnestly tried to persuade me, but I felt a chill shoot up from the soles of my feet. My dad was a scoundrel in his youth, always having affairs. At first, my mom would argue and fight with him, but later, after seeing it too often, she got used to it, only asking him to send money home on time each month. To this day, he lives freely outside, with her as his wife in name only. Which neighbors haven’t gossiped about us behind our backs? She knew how painful it was to be stuck in such a marriage, so why did she want to drag me into it too? “Mom, this isn’t the marriage I want! I want a loyal husband…” “What dream are you living in?” My mom impatiently cut me off. “I don’t care what you think, you will get married whether you want to or not! The invitations have already been sent out. If you back out now, you’re disgracing me!” “No more talk, come with me now to find Harry. We’ll apologize to him, and once he forgives you, we’ll discuss the new wedding date.” Her words infuriated me so much I almost couldn’t breathe. 3 But I firmly stated my position, “I’m saying it again, Harry and I have no future! No matter what you do, it won’t change that fact!” Her attitude was equally stubborn, insisting I apologize. Annoyed, I picked up my luggage and left again. I walked aimlessly down the street, everything familiar blurring as my emotions were released. Harry and I met on a blind date. He had the unique charm of a mature man. Although sometimes he lacked romance, he was never a buzzkill. He loved cycling, and I couldn’t even ride a bike. To keep up with him, I would often practice riding whenever he wasn’t around. Even after countless falls and bruises, I persisted. Later, when I finally learned, I wanted to go cycling with him to relax, but he said, “You’re a beginner, unsteady on the bike. Joining us would slow us down. You should practice more first.” He rejected me without hesitation, yet turned around and taught Clara how to ride, even frequently inviting her out for rides in his free time. I argued with him several times over this. At first, he would try to appease me, but over time, he grew increasingly impatient. He told me, “Those with a dirty mind think everything is dirty.” I was unfairly accused, but because I liked him enough, I chose to silently endure it. Because in a relationship, one person always gives more than the other. He wasn’t good at expressing emotions, so I would. Gradually, I became accustomed to this giving, and he began to take it for granted. But I just wanted a home of my own; why was it so difficult? I choked up, raising a hand to wipe away the tears from my eyes. I couldn’t stay at home. Until I found a suitable apartment, I could only continue living in a hotel. Fortunately, I still had a stable job, which was the only solace in my chaotic life. The day after my emotions stabilized, I went to work. After a meeting, I was about to start working when I saw the manager walk in with a beautiful woman. She had a bright smile on her face, greeting everyone in the office one by one. When her gaze fell on me, her smile widened. “Olivia, what a coincidence, you’re here too.” Seeing Clara greet me, my calm demeanor rippled slightly. She was a new employee, yet the manager personally introduced her. He clearly wanted to tell everyone that her status was out of the ordinary. I didn’t respond to her, and she didn’t get angry, her gaze shifting away from me. In the afternoon, as I was leaving the company, Clara walked towards me. She smiled and said, “Harry is coming to pick me up later. Let’s go together.” I showed no emotion. “No, it’s not on my way.” Clara covered her mouth in surprise, her face still smiling. “Olivia, are you still upset about us staying in the same room that day?” “We’re adults. Don’t be so old-fashioned…” I sneered, “Your open-mindedness is your business, and who you flirt with is also your business. Don’t try to morally blackmail me.” The moment those words left my lips, I felt a burning gaze from behind me. Harry strode over, his face dark, staring at me. “I thought you would realize your mistake, but you’re still so unreasonable! We’re both women. Don’t you think spreading such false rumors is despicable?” 4 I gave him a cold look. “If the dog doesn’t bark, why would I curse it? Mr. Hayes, please control your woman and tell her not to bark.” I rolled my eyes at both of them and turned to leave. But someone grabbed my arm directly. His face was terribly dark, and the anger in his eyes seemed ready to erupt. “Olivia, who told you to curse like that? Apologize!” “Let go! Why should I apologize?” I felt I had said nothing wrong, done nothing wrong. Why did everyone expect me to apologize? The disgust in my eyes was exceptionally clear. Harry’s face froze slightly, and he looked at me sinisterly. “Fine! Very well. I hope you can remain this tough in the future.” With that, he released my hand, turned, and left with Clara. They hadn’t walked two steps before Clara smiled and linked arms with him, not forgetting to cast a provocative look back at me. Honestly, such behavior was quite childish. But unfortunately, some people fell for it. My heart sank, and I turned to leave. In the evening, after showering, I began to work on the unfinished design from today. Just as I was deeply engrossed in my sketches, my phone on the desk suddenly lit up. It was a video from Clara. I hesitated for a moment, intending to delete it, but accidentally clicked on it. As the video played, a familiar voice drifted out. “Oh, Harry, all of this is my daughter’s fault. She’s not thinking clearly right now, so please don’t take it to heart. She only said she wanted to break up, but she doesn’t really mean it. As her mother, I have the most right to say so. This child has always been like this, quite annoying…” Hearing her words, I couldn’t help but tremble. Why would she do this? Why would she so cruelly bring up my pain in front of others? My dysfunctional family was already a hurdle I couldn’t overcome, a reality I didn’t want to face. There were many things I hadn’t told Harry until now. But she revealed everything, displaying my pain without reserve in front of others. Clara only sent a video, but I could imagine how triumphant she must be feeling right now. My mind crashed, and my cold hands and feet trembled helplessly. By the time I reacted, the video had finished playing. I stumbled to my feet, grabbed my phone, and rushed out to find her. The moment I hurried into the elevator, I noticed in the reflection that my face was already streaked with tears. I choked back sobs, trying to wipe away the tears, but they only flowed more fiercely. So much so that when I got into the taxi, the driver sympathetically said, “Young lady, please accept my condolences.” I didn’t speak, just kept wiping my tears. When I got out, I quietly said thank you. Yes, I should accept my condolences. A mother like her, in a way, was no longer there. I rushed to Harry’s house. As soon as I entered the password and stepped inside, I saw a woman about to kneel before Harry. And Clara standing nearby, enjoying the spectacle. My face darkened, and I strode over, pulling her almost bent body up. “What are you doing?” My mom saw me and, as if seeing a savior, grabbed my hand and said, “You came at the right time. Hurry and apologize to Harry. This was your fault, and apologizing isn’t shameful.” She pressed on my back, desperately trying to push me to the ground. Harry frowned deeply, saying indifferently, “No need to apologize to me. Just apologize to Clara. After all, she’s the one who was verbally attacked.” “Oh, right, hurry and apologize to Miss Clara.” She dragged me, then apologized to Clara. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I directly shook off her hand and roared, “Enough!” My mom was stunned by my shout, looking at me in shock. Harry’s frown deepened, and Clara instinctively shrank behind him. “Olivia, don’t be angry. Auntie means well…” “Yes, see how sensible Clara is? Why don’t you understand my good intentions?” My mom patted her chest, heartbroken. “Everything I’ve done, I did because I want you two to be happy. Otherwise, how could I put aside my pride as an elder to help you apologize?” “Auntie, please go home. Olivia is emotionally unstable right now. I’ll talk to her properly once she calms down.” My gaze swept over the three people standing united before me, and I let out a cold, mocking laugh. “Talk about what? About your illicit affair with her, or about when you two got together?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394829”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

In the fifth year of my mission to win over the male lead, William Donovan forgot my birthday. Again. Instead, it was the designated villainess, Stella Rhodes, who sent a message right on time. “Your birthday? So what? I snap my fingers, and he still comes running, doesn’t he?” This time, I didn’t follow the System’s recommendation to break down in tears. Instead, I replied to her: “Thanks. You’re the only one who remembered my birthday today.” She replied instantly with a: ? Then my phone started buzzing nonstop. “Wait, did you send that to the wrong person?” “Seriously? Are you for real? That’s pathetic.” “So, what do you want for your birthday then?” “Ugh, fine, I’ll come find you. You’re allergic to mangoes, so I’ll order a strawberry cake, okay?” “Honestly, you’re such a pain!” … The moment the doorbell rang, I gave the System a small smile. “You only said I had to win over the main character of this world. You never specified it had to be the male lead, did you?” … The usually chatty System went quiet for a moment. Then it stammered, trying to explain, “What… what do you mean? The target is obviously the male lead! You and William are destined to be happy together!” I couldn’t help but laugh, a bitter, self-mocking sound. Ever since I arrived at the Donovan estate five years ago, the System had been selling me a fantasy, insisting that the current neglect and grievances were just tests of love, that William and I were fated for a happily-ever-after. Too bad. Now, I wasn’t so sure I wanted that ending anymore. I ignored the System and got up to answer the door. But the face that greeted me was William’s, etched with impatience. He shot me a cold glare. “Even if I forgot our arrangement, you didn’t have to pull a stunt like this, using Stella to force me to see you. Ava, I never knew you were so manipulative.” I froze. To get him to spend this one birthday with me, I had worked almost nonstop for three months, finally achieving a breakthrough in Donovan Corp’s chip development. William had been ecstatic. He asked me what reward I wanted. I had timidly asked if he could spare one evening for me. He agreed readily, and I was overjoyed, thinking our relationship was finally about to take a step forward. I never expected to be left waiting for nothing, only to be met with his breezy, “I forgot.” The click of high heels sounded from behind him. Stella, holding a massive cake box, was panting as she reached the sixth floor. She stood awkwardly between William and me, a strange expression on her face. “So, you didn’t stand me up to be with her… you just completely forgot it’s Ava’s birthday today?” William frowned, his tone dripping with entitlement. “Why would I need to remember her birthday?” Stella turned to look at me again, her expression complicated. After a moment of tense silence, William looked down at me, his voice condescending as if granting charity. “Considering your dedication to Donovan Corp, if you have a wish, just say it.” I looked up, meeting his eyes. “Any wish?” William paused, unconsciously rubbing his nose and looking away. “Of course.” The System screamed in my head. OMG! OMG! He’s blushing, did you see that? Quick, tell him you don’t want anything, just for him to spend one day with you! An amusement park! Fireworks! The affection points will skyrocket! Aaaah! But I just looked at him quietly for two seconds and took a deep breath. “Then could you give me some money?” William’s smile froze. “What?” I lifted my eyes calmly. “Give me some money. I need to pay my rent.” His face instantly darkened. He ground his teeth. “So your true colors are finally showing. And you claimed you weren’t after my money.” William’s fists clenched, cracking audibly. He sneered. “Too late, Ava. You want to be Mrs. Donovan, don’t you? Then you’ll spend the rest of your life slaving away for Donovan Corp.” He turned and stormed off, leaving Stella to awkwardly hand me the cake. “Um… Happy birthday.” I managed a weak smile. “I know you only came to laugh at me, but thank you anyway.” I closed the door, and the System started wailing again. Oh my god, what were you just doing? He forgot your birthday, he was clearly feeling guilty! Why didn’t you use that to your advantage instead of saying something like that? I glanced down at the overdue rent notice from my landlady. “What else was I supposed to do? A girl’s got to live.” For all these years, William had despised me. I was the chief engineer at Donovan Corp, yet my salary was lower than the cleaning staff’s. The System was taken aback. But that’s just the male lead giving you a hard time! He loves you but doesn’t know it yet! Once you’re married, everything he has will be yours, won’t it? The doorbell rang again. A delivery guy holding a cake box peeked in. “An order from a Mr. Donovan.” The System grew smug. See? I told you he has you in his heart! Look, he even ordered you a cake. You’re the one who pushed him away. Aren’t you going to call him and coax him back? I stared at the cake, which was completely covered in sliced mangoes, and fell silent. Then I looked up at the System. “Do you remember five years ago, the day I first arrived?” I arranged to meet Stella at the coffee shop downstairs from her company. The System was spinning in circles in my head. [Host, are you absolutely sure about this? Are you really going to Rhodes Industries? Stella is only taking you in now to keep you away from the male lead. Later, when your feelings for him deepen, she will come after you even more viciously!] I pulled on my coat, replying casually, “But at least she’ll treat me fairly. I won’t starve to death in a strange city. Besides, for Stella to beat out all her siblings to inherit the company, she can’t be some brainless socialite. And also…” I didn’t finish the thought. Five years ago, I came to the capital alone to find my relatives. The security guard at the mansion looked down his nose at me and shamelessly kicked me out. It was William who appeared like a savior, scolding the guard and bringing a terrified me back to the Donovan estate. That’s why for five years, no matter how coldly he treated me, I always craved that first glimmer of light. Of course, I had also never forgotten that five years ago, the person walking beside William, who held an umbrella over my head and draped a coat over my shoulders, was Stella. Perhaps without that absurd decision five years ago, the three of us wouldn’t be in this situation. Stella sat across from me, slowly stirring her coffee. “You really want to come to Rhodes Industries? Why? Isn’t Donovan Corp your life? For the past few years, you’ve practically chained yourself to that lab. You come whenever William calls, more obedient than his family dog.” I took a sip of my coffee. “Because I don’t want to be a dog anymore.” Stella paused. After a long moment, she handed me a contract with a complex expression. “Ava, I genuinely dislike you. But sometimes, I also admire you.” “I’ve always kept business and personal matters separate. As a woman, I won’t make things difficult for you at work. But emotionally, we are still rivals.” She stood up and extended her hand. “Welcome to Rhodes Industries.” I looked up, smiled softly, and took her hand. Before I appeared, Stella and William were the undisputed main characters of this world. Childhood sweethearts, a perfect match from powerful families. Until five years ago, when the old Mr. Donovan was targeted in an attack. It was his driver who took the fatal blow for him. With his dying breath, the driver asked the Donovan family to take care of his only daughter. And so, in front of everyone, Mr. Donovan announced that William was to marry me and take care of me for the rest of my life. William’s face turned ashen. The man who had been gently comforting me the night before now looked at me with nothing but disgust. Back at the company, my assistant Paige started making frantic faces at me the moment she saw me. Confused, I pushed open my office door to find William sitting there, his face a cold mask. “Leaving your post during work hours, Ava. Is this your professional attitude? You won’t be getting paid this month.” I pursed my lips but said nothing. He continued with a sarcastic sneer. “Oh, I forgot. Without a salary, you can’t pay your rent. What, are you planning to shamelessly move back into the Donovan estate?” The System suddenly piped up. [He never comes to the R&D department! He’s giving you an out! And he’s talking about rent, he obviously wants you to move back in! It’s just an excuse from a prideful male lead!] But I suddenly felt a wave of exhaustion. Five years. I didn’t want to live like this anymore. “Let’s just forget it.” Both the System and William froze. “Forget it. Since I violated company policy, I’ll resign.” William shot to his feet, grinding his teeth. “Do you think playing hard-to-get will soften me? Who do you think you are? You want to resign? Fine. Get out and don’t ever think about coming back.” He swept everything off his desk in a sudden rage and slammed the door on his way out. I silently bent down to pick up the scattered documents. My phone buzzed with a message from Stella. [Monday is good for your first day, right? I bought you some clothes and had them sent to your place. Dress professionally when you come to work. Don’t embarrass me!] I looked at the message and suddenly, I smiled. On Monday morning, I stood before the Rhodes Industries tower. The System was still chattering away. [Host, are you absolutely sure? This is Stella’s territory. According to the original plot, she will…] I walked into the building and asked casually, “She’ll what?” [On your first day, she’ll provide you with a full set of office supplies, arrange your workstation, and have her assistant buy you breakfast… wait? Now that I think about it, she doesn’t seem that villainous…] I couldn’t help but chuckle. I knew five years ago that Stella was never some spoiled, cruel socialite. If the System hadn’t set us up in these inherently opposing roles, perhaps things would have been different. The elevator doors opened. Before I could step out, Stella was already waiting. She looked me up and down, her brow furrowing. “Didn’t I buy you clothes? Why are you still wearing that?” I looked down at my own white blouse. “Those clothes were too expensive, I…” She cut me off. “I told you to wear them, so wear them. Stop making excuses. Come with me, your office is on the eighteenth floor.” I was stunned. “An office? I’m just an engineer, I don’t need…” Stella didn’t even turn around. “I say you need one. Rhodes Industries is not Donovan Corp. We don’t make our chief engineer sit in a cubicle. Also, your salary card…” She turned and handed me a bank card. “A three-month advance to pay your rent. I don’t want you getting evicted and embarrassing me.” I stared down at the card, my fingers trembling slightly. The System whispered, [Host, something feels off. Aren’t those supposed to be the male lead’s lines?] I sat at my new desk in a daze. An assistant, Chris, poked his head in. “Ms. Stone, Ms. Rhodes wanted me to tell you that you’ll be having lunch together. The chef in our company cafeteria makes amazing Cajun food.” My head snapped up. The Donovans preferred bland food, and William had serious stomach issues. I was from Louisiana, but in the last five years, it felt like I’d never once tasted the food from home. At lunch, Stella and I sat across from each other. Chris came over, cheerfully carrying a steaming bowl of jambalaya. Stella frowned. “I forgot to say, no cilantro.” I was taken aback. “How did you know I don’t eat cilantro?” She gave me a look like I’d asked the dumbest question in the world. “What kind of question is that? I have eyes. I’ve seen it.” A bitter smile touched my lips. My phone suddenly buzzed with a call from William. I let it ring until it stopped. A moment later, Stella’s phone rang. She chuckled and declined the call. “He probably just saw our company’s announcement about the new chief engineer. I never thought after all these years of William’s pride, I’d get to see him so flustered.” I chewed on my fork in silence. “I thought you really liked him.” She raised an eyebrow. “In our circle, he’s a decent match. At first, I was just unwilling to be upstaged by someone like you. But being able to crush Donovan Corp in business? That brings me more joy than I can say.” William’s call came again. I still didn’t answer. The System asked meekly, [Host, are you really not going to answer? He’s starting to panic now that you’re really gone.] I stared at my phone, thinking of the countless nights I had waited over the past five years. Waiting for his call, for his message, for even a single glance. I waited for five years. He never knew where I lived. He didn’t know what time I went to sleep, or that I went to the hospital alone for my appendectomy. He didn’t know I worried about rent every month. He didn’t know I hated cilantro, that I was allergic to mangoes. He didn’t know I was afraid of the dark and had to sleep with a nightlight on. There was so much he didn’t know. But Stella knew all of it. I let out a long breath, popped the tab on a can of soda, and raised it to her. “To a successful partnership, Ms. Rhodes.” Then, I blocked William’s number. In the three months I worked at Rhodes Industries, William didn’t contact me again. Stella gave me the best team and the highest level of authority. I threw myself into my work, forgetting to eat or sleep. Any news I heard of William was through other people’s social media posts. When someone deliberately brought him up in front of me, I would just smile it off. Gradually, even the System seemed to give up and stopped bothering me.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394827”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Boredom is dangerous. To kill time and make extra cash, I took an online cat-sitting gig. Easy enough, I thought. But entering the client’s apartment, the first thing I saw were couple photos on the wall. I didn’t recognize the woman. But the man… I knew him all too well. Jack, my boyfriend of seven years. Just as my world tilted, the client texted: “Are you at my place yet?” Bitterly, I replied, “Yes. About to scoop the litter.” “Great! After, could you spray air freshener? My boyfriend hates the cat smell.” Then: “And take the trash out? Thanks!” Her words led me to the kitchen bin. Inside, among the rubbish: a used condom wrapper. My composure cracked. I had to ask. “Is the man in the photos your boyfriend?” She replied instantly. “Yes! That’s Jack. We’ve been together a year.” “We’re deeply in love, getting married this year. How about you? Have a boyfriend?” A tear hit the screen, blurring her text. “I did, before I walked in,” I typed. “Not anymore.” 1 A single question mark emoji was her immediate reply. I quickly wiped my eyes, aimed my phone at the little ginger cat hiding in its plush bed, and snapped a photo. I sent it to her, desperate to change the subject. “Your cat’s a little shy.” Again, an instant response. “I know, right? But she absolutely adores my boyfriend.” “He’s actually allergic to cats, but every time he comes over, she just has to cuddle up in his lap. Poor thing has to pop allergy pills every other day because of her.” “What about you? I saw on your profile that you love cats. How come you don’t have one?” Why don’t I have a cat? Probably because the man I loved, who was also named Jack, was allergic to cat hair. Because I was so desperately in love with him that three years into our relationship, when we decided to move in together, I was the one who suggested giving my cat of five years to my mom. I only went to see him when the ache of missing him became unbearable. I’d snap a few pictures, then spend my nights scrolling through them, pretending to stroke his fur through the cold glass of my phone. And only now, standing in this stranger’s apartment, did I learn there was another solution. A simple one. Jack could just take an allergy pill. That familiar, sour ache returned to my chest, sharper this time. I couldn’t waste another second on this charade. “Sorry, I need to get back to work,” I typed, then shut my phone off. I moved on autopilot, scooping the litter, refilling the water bowl, pouring fresh kibble. After all, she’d gone to great lengths to orchestrate this little play, hasn’t she? No matter how many times I tried to steer the conversation away, she dragged it right back to Jack. It would be a shame not to give her what she wanted. I had to satisfy her. I had to document everything in this home she shared with Jack. I had to gather all the evidence I could. It was the least I could do to repay her for all her meticulous planning. 2 I left her apartment half an hour later and had just reached the gate of the complex when my phone buzzed. It was Jack. He told me he was working late tonight. Don’t wait up for dinner, he said. Don’t stay up waiting for him to come home. The photos I’d taken on my phone were more than enough proof. The walls of her apartment were a shrine to their relationship. Vacation snapshots from trips they’d taken. Date night pictures from right here in our city, some from restaurants I’d been to with him countless times. There was even a group photo with his best friends, our friends. And there, on her nightstand, sat the matching ring he’d worn for seven years, the one he told me he’d lost months ago. Even with all of that, a stupid, hopeful part of me needed to see it with my own eyes. I waited outside her apartment complex until 8 PM, shivering in the biting spring chill, but he never showed. Defeated, I finally hailed a cab and went home. The moment I stepped through the door, I saw him. The man who was supposedly “working late” was sitting on our couch, his fingers flying across his laptop keyboard. My heart felt like it was being pierced by a thousand tiny needles. He looked up at the sound of the door and his face broke into a smile. He stood up immediately. “Where have you been? It’s so late.” He walked over, his voice laced with concern. “My client tonight wasn’t that important, so I rescheduled to come home and be with you.” He took my cold hands in his. “You know, you’re pregnant. You’re not even three months along yet, you shouldn’t be running around like this. You should stop with that online cat-sitting stuff for a while.” “The doctor said the first trimester is the most critical time.” He bent down, pulled a pair of slippers out from the shoe cabinet, and gently placed them on my feet. He was always like this, so thoughtful and gentle. When he was home, he doted on me, trying to do everything for me. He could even read my most complex, tangled emotions before I’d even sorted them out myself. And tonight was no different. After putting on my slippers, he led me to the couch. He draped a soft blanket over my legs before speaking in that warm, soothing voice I used to love. “You’re worrying about being a good mom again, aren’t you?” “Don’t worry,” he murmured, stroking my hair. “I’m here. Everything will be okay. That stuff you see on TikTok is just the algorithm. It feeds you what you’re already scared of.” “All you need to do right now is take care of yourself. Once you’re past the three-month mark, you can relax and focus on being my beautiful bride.” The pregnancy had unearthed a deep-seated fear of marriage and motherhood in me. It wasn’t a surprise, really. My parents divorced when I was five because my father cheated. I grew up with my mother, and for the next twenty-odd years, any time I dared to disobey her, she would launch into the graphic, horrifying story of my birth. How she nearly bled to death. How the doctors had to manually, painfully pull the afterbirth from her body. She even managed to twist the narrative so that my father’s affair was somehow my fault. She claimed that being pregnant with me meant she couldn’t satisfy his “basic needs as a man,” leaving him with no choice but to find comfort elsewhere. That’s why he chose his mistress over her. Because of that shadow, I’d been with Jack for seven years, living with him for four, and turned down dozens of his marriage proposals. I just couldn’t find the courage to take that step. Until this. An accidental pregnancy. Until Jack had knelt before me, tears streaming down his face, begging me to keep the baby. He’d sworn he would never let me end up like my mother. And I’d finally, finally let myself believe him. I’d decided to keep the baby. I’d decided to marry Jack. But just as I started to embrace the idea of a future, a family, he cheated. A tear escaped and rolled down my cheek, landing on the crisp fabric of his suit. More followed, soaking a dark patch on the blanket over my legs. Seeing me cry sent him into a panic. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he said, fumbling for a tissue to wipe my face. “Shh, don’t cry, don’t cry. I’ve got you.” He pulled me into a tight hug. The familiar warmth of his body only made the pain in my chest burn hotter. I couldn’t take it anymore. I pulled back, my mouth open, ready to confront him about the other woman. But as I looked up, my eyes caught something just below the collar of his slightly unbuttoned shirt. A dark, purplish mark, partially hidden. A hickey. A wave of revulsion washed over me, so powerful it stole the words from my throat. I shoved him away, a primal instinct taking over, and scrambled towards the bathroom, collapsing in front of the toilet as my body heaved violently. And then it all clicked. His strange behavior over the past month. Ever since the doctor had advised us to abstain from sex during the first trimester, Jack had started coming to bed later and later. He always waited until I was fast asleep. I’d thought he was just being considerate, afraid he wouldn’t be able to control himself. Now I knew the truth. He was afraid I’d find the marks she left on his skin. The pain in my chest intensified. From outside the closed door, I could hear his urgent knocking. “Ava? Are you okay?” “Ava, is it the morning sickness again?” Before I could answer, his phone rang. I heard the muffled sound of him picking it up. “What? To the office now?” he hissed. “I don’t have time for this, my fiancée is pregnant and sick in the bathroom.” There was a pause. “What do you mean the client insists on seeing me tonight? They’ll find another lawyer if I don’t go? Fine. Fine! I’m on my way.” He hung up. The knocking started again, more frantic this time. “Ava, please open the door. Let me just see you, make sure you’re okay.” “I don’t care if you’ve been sick, I just need to know you’re alright.” My chest ached, and my body was limp from the force of my retching. But the thought of seeing his face right now was unbearable. I choked back a sob and forced my voice to sound calm. “Is it work? If it’s urgent, you should go. I’m fine, it’s just the pregnancy sickness. It’ll pass.” “Don’t worry,” I added, “I’ll call you if I need anything.” His work must have been truly urgent. After a few more hurried words of concern through the door, I heard his footsteps retreat towards the front of the apartment. A few moments later, the heavy thud of the front door closing echoed through our home. The tension drained from my body, and the tears I’d been holding back finally came, silent and steady. Jack and I had known each other since high school. He was the valedictorian; I was the salutatorian. The whole school gossiped that we were a couple, but we weren’t. Back then, my world revolved around my grades. And Jack… though he always looked at me with a softness in his eyes, a kind of protective warmth, he never actually asked me out. So in college, I dated someone else. It wasn’t until two years later, after a stupid fight led to a breakup, that Jack finally confessed. He told me he’d been in love with me for six years. My chest felt so tight I could barely breathe. My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a message from the cat-sitting client. From Sienna. “Did you steal my diamond ring when you were at my house today?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394826”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Just before the wealthy Davenports came to the orphanage to find their lost son, my childhood friend Stella pressed a jade crest pendant into my hand. “The director said this was with you as a baby,” she whispered. Suddenly, glowing text appeared before me: [She’s giving the male lead’s heirloom to the side character? So the side character gets adopted?] [Yes. The real heir has a fresh back tattoo—he needs time to heal.] [What noble family wants a son with bleached hair, piercings, and a flashy tattoo?] [Let the side character take the fall. Once the heir’s tattoo heals, he’ll reveal the imposter and take his place.] [Too bad the side character can’t read this. He’s about to be called a scheming usurper.] That was my past life. I took the pendant, was welcomed into the Davenport family, and was showered with love. But two years later, at my birthday gala, the “real heir” Rhys Davenport burst in, weeping. He said I’d stolen his life. Stella stood beside him, calling me a cold, calculating fraud since childhood. Overnight, I became a social-climbing snake, blacklisted in every industry. I died broke on the street. Now, opening my eyes, I was back. Stella offered the pendant again. A slight smile touched my lips. I took it. 1 “Here, Nathan. For you.” Stella pressed the cool, smooth jade into my palm, her face a mask of gentle concern. “The director said this was the only thing you had with you when you were brought to the orphanage. I thought… maybe it could help you find your family.” I looked down at the familiar crest, the transparent text once again floating in my vision. [Here we go! The classic pendant hand-off! The imposter is officially online!] [Stella is ruthless. She came up with this whole ‘trading the prince for a pauper’ scheme just so Rhys could have a few weeks for his ugly tattoo to heal.] [Poor Nathan. Used as a shield for two years only to be discarded.] My hand clenched around the pendant, my knuckles turning white. I looked up at the woman who had personally orchestrated my doom, her eyes glinting with a cunning she concealed so well. “Really?” I sniffled, forcing my eyes to redden with unshed tears. “Stella, thank you! I… I don’t know what to say!” I pressed the pendant to my chest, feigning the same overwhelmed gratitude as before. A flicker of triumph flashed in Stella’s eyes. She had taken the bait. “Silly,” she murmured, her voice dripping with false affection. “You don’t have to thank me. We’re friends.” Just then, a black Rolls-Royce purred to a stop at the orphanage gates. A regal-looking couple stepped out—Harrison Davenport, CEO of the Davenport Corporation, and his wife, Eleanor. Just like in my previous life, Eleanor’s gaze landed on the pendant I was clutching, and she froze. She rushed toward me, her voice trembling. “Young man… that pendant…” I took a deliberate step back, my expression a mixture of fear and confusion. “Ma’am? Do I know you?” Harrison caught up, placing a steadying arm around his emotional wife. He looked at me, his eyes a storm of complex emotions that finally settled into a heavy, solemn promise. “We’re your parents, son,” he said, his voice thick. “We’ve been looking for you for nineteen years.” Eleanor could no longer contain herself. She pulled me into a fierce embrace, her body wracked with sobs. “My boy… my sweet boy… Mother has finally found you…” Over her shoulder, I met Stella’s gaze from across the yard. She offered me a small, encouraging smile. I lowered my eyes, hiding the icy contempt that swirled within them. 2 The Davenport mansion was even more opulent than I remembered. Eleanor led me by the hand into a bedroom so vast it felt more like a suite. “Nathan, you’ve suffered so much,” she said, her voice choked with emotion as she pressed a black card into my hand. “This is for you. A little something to make up for lost time.” “There’s no pin, no limit,” she whispered. “Buy whatever you want. Don’t you dare try to save money for my sake.” Harrison, who had followed us in, nodded gravely. “The card is yours. From now on, you are the one and only heir to the Davenport family.” [Here it comes, the unlimited black card! Last time, Nathan was too scared to spend a dime, terrified of being seen as a gold-digger.] [And what did that get him? They still thought he was an unsophisticated nobody who couldn’t handle himself.] [In the end, Rhys got the card and blew tens of millions on luxury goods without batting an eye.] [Spend it! Go on! If you don’t, someone else will spend it for you!] A small smile played on my lips as I read the comments. They were right. In my past life, I had treated this card like a hot potato, pathetically trying to win their affection with obedience and humility. How naive I was. “Thank you, Father. Thank you, Mother.” I accepted the card with a calm poise, showing neither hesitation nor excessive excitement. My composure seemed to startle them. They had probably expected a boy from an orphanage to be stammering with joy. I didn’t give them long to study me. Taking the card, I retreated to my new room and opened the brand-new laptop they had provided. I needed money. A lot of it. And this black card was my first lever. Drawing on the memories of my past life, I quickly identified several projects that were initially overlooked but were destined to become colossal successes. NovaCore Tech’s “Oracle” chip project. Luminary Pictures’ high-concept series, Midnight Sun. And a small biotech firm on the verge of bankruptcy, soon to be acquired and restructured. Without a moment’s hesitation, I began funneling vast sums of money through a complex network of channels. [Whoa! He’s actually spending it! Nine figures right off the bat?] [Is he insane? NovaCore is a notorious money pit! The Davenports will break his legs if they find out!] [Wait a minute… isn’t Midnight Sun that show that became a global phenomenon? The return on investment was something like 30,000%!] [To the guy above, I just checked. That biotech firm is being acquired by the Chen Corporation next month. They’re about to announce a breakthrough cancer drug. The stock is going to the moon!] I worked fast. In less than half an hour, a staggering amount of money had flowed out of the black card’s account. As expected, a sharp knock came at my door. Harrison Davenport strode in, his face a thundercloud. In his hand was a fax from the bank, detailing my recent transactions. “Nathan.” He slammed the list onto my desk, his gaze as sharp as a hawk’s. “I just had your spending records pulled. The Davenports are not short on cash, but that doesn’t give you the right to squander it.” He had clearly done his research on the companies I’d invested in. That’s why he was so furious. I didn’t even glance at the list. I simply looked up, my expression calm as I met his fiery gaze. “Father, this isn’t squandering. It’s investing.” “Investing?” Harrison laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. “What does a boy straight out of an orphanage know about investing?” “Do you know how much money NovaCore has burned through? And Luminary Pictures is a third-rate production house. Are you playing games with me?” “By the end of this month, NovaCore will announce a major breakthrough in their 2nm chip technology, securing a massive investment from the military.” “And while the production team for Midnight Sun may be underfunded, their director is Li An, a genius who just returned from winning an award at Cannes. I believe it will be the biggest hit of the year.” The anger on Harrison’s face slowly froze, replaced by a look of sharp scrutiny and disbelief. “As for the pharmaceutical company, within a month, the heiress of the Chen Corporation, Victoria Chen, will personally lead the acquisition.” “Father, you’ve been in the business world for decades. You know what that implies.” The room fell into a dead silence. Harrison stared at me, searching my face for any sign of panic or deceit, but he found none. My expression was as placid as a still lake. After a long moment, he turned and left my room without another word. Within the gilded cage of a dynasty, affection was a fleeting rumor. Value was the only true currency. 3 Just as I predicted, within a month, all three of my major investments exploded with spectacular news. NovaCore officially announced its breakthrough in 2nm chip technology. A military-backed fund made a high-profile investment, and the company’s valuation multiplied tenfold overnight. Luminary Pictures’ underdog series, Midnight Sun, with its masterful production and mind-bending plot, became a viral sensation, breaking viewership records and becoming a massive cultural export. And the bankrupt biotech firm was acquired by the Chen Corporation for a breathtaking sum, all because it had developed a revolutionary new cancer-targeting drug. For the second time, I was summoned to Harrison’s study. “These are your investment dividends,” he said, pushing a set of documents across the desk toward me. “Nathan, tell me. How did you know?” I simply smiled. “Father, would you believe me if I said it was just luck?” He fell silent. A true businessman doesn’t believe in luck; he believes in strength and information. The more mysterious I appeared, the more valuable I became in his eyes. From that day on, Harrison began taking me to exclusive business galas and private banquets. Eleanor, too, was eager to introduce me to the city’s most eligible heiresses, her matchmaking intentions crystal clear. In my past life, I had felt like a product on a shelf, awkward and tongue-tied before the scrutinizing gazes of the city’s elite. This time, I was the one doing the judging. “Mr. Davenport, what are your thoughts on NFTs?” a man in gold-rimmed glasses asked, trying to sound profound. I swirled the wine in my glass. “A bubble over-inflated by capital,” I said coolly. “When the fad dies, so will the fools who bought into it.” The man’s face stiffened. “I hear you’ve just returned to the Davenports, Mr. Davenport. Where were you employed before?” another trust-fund kid asked, his tone dripping with condescending curiosity about my origins. I looked him straight in the eye. “Where I was before is irrelevant. What matters is that my name is Davenport now.” I paused, letting my gaze sweep over him. “And from what I hear, Mr. Ashton, your family’s quarterly reports aren’t looking too good, are they?” Their stunned and humiliated expressions bored me. It wasn’t until a business gala hosted by the Chen Corporation that I met Victoria Chen. As the host, she was conversing with several industry titans. Dressed in a flawlessly tailored suit, she exuded an aura of cool confidence and innate control. [It’s her! The male lead’s future partner!] [In the last life, Nathan never had the status to attend events like this, so he never met Victoria.] [Wait, isn’t Stella the male lead’s partner? Why are the comments saying it’s Victoria?] [Oh, right, I remember now. Stella was just the early-game partner. Rhys eventually dumps her and tries to climb his way up to Victoria, but she never gives him the time of day.] As I was reading the comments, a grating voice sounded behind me. “Well, well, if it isn’t the country boy the Davenports just dragged in. Learning how to hunt for a sugar mama already?” I turned. It was Blake Ashton, the heir to the Ashton Group, a thorn in my side in my previous life. I couldn’t be bothered with him and turned to leave. But he blocked my path, raising his voice to draw attention. “What? Did I hit a nerve? I guess for someone with your background, all you have is a pretty face and the Davenport name, right?” He had succeeded in attracting a small crowd, including, I noticed, Victoria Chen. I stopped and looked at him, a slow smile spreading across my face. “You’re right, Blake, one can’t choose their background. But one can choose to use their brain.” “Instead of wasting your time obsessing over my past, you should be more concerned with the Ashton Group’s precarious stock price. I hear your line of credit is about to be cut, isn’t it?” The color drained from Blake’s face. “You… What nonsense are you spouting!” “You and I both know it’s not nonsense,” I said, my smile vanishing, my eyes turning cold. “If you want to leave with any dignity, I suggest you do it now.” Just then, Victoria Chen approached, a wine glass in her hand. She ignored the shell-shocked Blake, her gaze landing directly on me. “Mr. Davenport, a pleasure,” she said, raising her glass. “Your analysis of the Ashton Group’s situation was quite astute.” “You flatter me, Ms. Chen.” “What I’m more curious about,” she said, her sharp, intelligent eyes glinting, “is how you managed to buy up the majority of that biotech firm’s scattered shares right before my acquisition. Your intel was better than mine.” So, she had already investigated me. “Perhaps,” I replied with the same well-worn excuse, “I’m just very lucky.” Victoria laughed, a sound of genuine appreciation, the kind one gives an equal. “Harrison has kept you hidden for too long. We should have dinner sometime, Mr. Davenport. I believe we’ll have a great deal to talk about.” After that night, Victoria and I began to meet frequently. We didn’t talk about trivialities; we discussed corporate mergers, future technologies, and global economic trends. Many of my insights surprised, and even impressed, her. A month later, Harrison summoned me to his study again. He wore a complex expression I had never seen before. “Nathan,” he began, his voice sounding almost surreal, “Victoria Chen just called me.” I watched him calmly, waiting. “She wants to merge our families,” he said, the words hanging in the air. “She wants to marry you.” The news was a bombshell, cementing my unshakable position. The massive returns from my investments had also started to roll in, doubling the Davenport family’s assets. Soon, my twentieth birthday arrived. The Davenport and Chen families decided to co-host a lavish gala in my honor, which would also serve as my and Victoria’s official engagement party. Standing before the mirror, dressed in an impeccably tailored suit, I knew that the night that had plunged me into despair in my past life was about to play out again, but this time, on my terms.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394825”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I sold my shares in the startup I’d built from the ground up. I was getting married. But my two co-founders, the women who had sworn they’d never marry anyone but me, didn’t know yet. They were too busy throwing a celebratory dinner for our new male secretary. It was my deal. I was the one who drank with the client until I was coughing up blood. But after I collapsed, he’d left me in a hotel room and taken the signed contract back to the office to claim all the credit. And they, my partners, had believed him without a second thought. The next day, compromising photos of me circulated through the company’s group chat. The whispers were everywhere—that I’d only landed our biggest accounts by sleeping my way to the top. I called them from my hospital bed, desperate to explain. Their response? “You’re a grown man, Simon. Stop being so dramatic. Making up stories about bleeding stomachs? Really?” “We’ve seen you drink. You have an iron stomach. You could drink battery acid and be fine.” “Alex landed a huge win for us, and we’re celebrating. Come if you want, don’t if you don’t.” The day I was discharged, I sold my shares to their biggest rival. Then I called my parents. “I’ll marry her,” I said. “I’ll marry the heiress. You can start planning the wedding.” 1 Isabelle and Olivia pushed open my office door just as I hung up. Their brows furrowed in unison. “Wedding? What wedding?” With the ceremony only ten days away, there was no point in hiding it. “Mine,” I said. “I’ll send you both an invitation.” They exchanged a look of disbelief. Just then, my phone began buzzing incessantly. My mother was spamming me with over a dozen design concepts for wedding rings. They leaned over my shoulder, their eyes widening as they saw the images. Isabelle’s voice was sharp. “What are you doing looking at wedding rings, Simon? Are you planning to wear one on each hand?” Olivia interrogated me like a suspect in a lineup. “You’re a workaholic. You don’t even have a girlfriend. Who are you marrying?” The irony was laughable. These were the two women who had once vowed to spend the rest of their lives with me. Alex, the new secretary, chose that moment to walk in with a stack of documents. He overheard the conversation, his face a mask of shock. “Mr. Davies, you’re not actually going to be Mrs. Gable’s boy toy, are you? I heard her son is already in college. Isn’t that a little… inappropriate?” Thanks to him, the entire office now thought I was having an affair with our biggest client. My gaze turned to ice. “Barging into my office without knocking is just bad manners. But stealing my credit and then spreading slander about me? Is that just ignorance of the law?” My harsh tone made his eyes well up. He stammered an apology, wringing his hands. “Mr. Davies, I didn’t… I never thought people would misunderstand like this. But you and Mrs. Gable, that night in the hotel room…” He trailed off, his face beet red, unable to finish the sentence. But he’d said enough. Isabelle and Olivia’s faces darkened, their eyes now dripping with contempt. “That’s enough!” Isabelle snapped at me. “If you didn’t want people to know, you shouldn’t have done it. Don’t take your humiliation out on Alex.” “He was just concerned for you,” Olivia added. “Mrs. Gable is old enough to be your mother. Do you have to debase yourself by becoming some rich woman’s plaything?” I let out a harsh, humorless laugh and kicked all three of them out of my office. We had a lifetime of friendship, five years of building a company from nothing. And yet, they trusted a man who had been here for less than two months over me. I refused to let their toxicity get to me. I went back to choosing a wedding ring. Two minutes later, a notification popped up. It was a message from Isabelle in the company-wide group chat, announcing that Alex and I would be swapping offices. Her reasoning? As their secretary, Alex needed to be closer to them to improve “work efficiency.” The chat, filled with hundreds of employees, immediately flooded with messages congratulating Alex. A few loyal team members, however, questioned the decision. It was absurd for a freshly graduated intern to be given the general manager’s office after only two months. I was about to privately message them to stand down when Alex sent a voice note to the group, his tone dripping with false humility. “Isabelle, it’s all my fault. I was so focused on the contract that night that I failed to take care of Mr. Davies. I don’t deserve his office. I’m too ashamed to even face him. I’d like to formally submit my resignation!” His performance was so nauseating it made me want to puke. The glass door to my office flew open. Olivia stood there, glaring at me. “Look what you’ve done! Pack your things and clear out for Alex. I don’t want to see you bullying a young man who’s new to the professional world ever again!” Isabelle followed close behind, urging me to hurry up while simultaneously typing a message in the group chat, consoling Alex. Then, someone in the office shouted that Alex was on the roof. The color drained from both their faces. They sprinted out of the room, their long legs carrying them toward the stairwell. I watched them go, then picked up my phone and dialed the number of the person who wanted to buy my shares. 2 Isabelle and Olivia’s arch-nemesis, Evelyn Vance, had somehow heard I was selling. She made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. I glanced at the email I’d sent Isabelle and Olivia. Yesterday had marked the 30-day deadline. Their failure to respond meant they had forfeited their right of first refusal. Evelyn had given me three days to consider. I called her back and told her we could sign the papers immediately. By the time they had coaxed Alex down from the roof, they returned to find my office exactly as it had been. Their patience had worn thin. “It’s an office swap, not a cross-country move,” Olivia snapped. “What’s taking you so long?” Alex bit his lip, his eyes red and swollen as he looked at me. “Mr. Davies, I’m sorry. I don’t have to have this office…” “It’s fine,” I said coolly. “If you like it, it’s yours. You can have the general manager title, too.” My words made fresh tears well up in his eyes. The ruthless ambition he’d shown when he stole my deal was nowhere to be seen. “What’s with the sarcasm, Simon?” Isabelle chimed in. “It’s just an office. Do you have to be so petty?” I had already sold my shares. I couldn’t care less about the office. My dismissive smirk, however, seemed to infuriate Olivia. With a sharp movement, she swept the few personal items I had on my desk into a box and dumped it on an empty cubicle outside. Isabelle shot me a cool glance before she started personally helping Alex arrange his new space. HR sent up plants, flowers, and even collectible figurines. You would have thought they were decorating a honeymoon suite. At the end of the day, Isabelle knocked on the edge of my new, cramped desk. “Don’t leave when you clock out. We’re having a team dinner to celebrate Alex’s new office.” I was stunned. A celebration for an office swap? But I didn’t refuse. I figured it would be a fitting farewell dinner with my former colleagues. At the restaurant, I noticed that the few employees who had defended me in the group chat were gone. I messaged them one by one. They told me Isabelle and Olivia had fired them on trumped-up charges, warning them not to contact me or they would be blacklisted from the industry. To appease Alex, they had cast aside their most loyal employees without a second thought. After that display of power, no one else dared to cross them for my sake. Instead, they kicked me while I was down. “Simon,” one of them slurred, “you missed Alex’s last celebration. You should really toast him tonight. If he hadn’t closed that deal, who knows what other… sacrifices you would have had to make.” The insinuation reminded me of the disgusting comments I’d overheard in the restroom earlier that day. “He’s got some nerve, showing up to work like nothing happened.” “A guy who sleeps with rich old ladies to land clients doesn’t need a sense of shame.” I ignored them all, pouring myself a glass of soda and sipping it quietly. Isabelle’s face went cold. She snatched the glass from my hand and dumped it out. Olivia, in a seamless move, filled it to the brim with hard liquor. “You bullied Alex so badly today he almost jumped off a roof,” she said. “A drink to apologize isn’t too much to ask, is it?” “Besides,” Isabelle added, “you owe him one from the last party you skipped.” Without a second thought, I flicked my wrist and sent the contents of the glass into Olivia’s face. “Who the hell is he to deserve a toast from me?” The table fell silent, everyone stunned by my action. Isabelle, ever the stoic one, simply refilled the glass and held it out to me. “Simon, this is for team unity. You’re drinking it, whether you like it or not.” Alex, ever the actor, feigned concern. “Isabelle, it’s okay. I know Mr. Davies looks down on me. If he doesn’t want to drink, let’s not force him…” But Olivia, still dripping with liquor, was having none of it. 3 Furious, she slapped me across the face. While I was still reeling, she grabbed the glass and forced the liquor down my throat. “You have no right to look down on him,” she hissed, “you, who sell your body for contracts.” The two women who once fretted if I had a single drop of alcohol were now force-feeding it to me for Alex’s sake, their words dripping with venom. The fiery liquid burned a path down my throat, igniting a sharp, searing pain in my stomach. A cold sweat broke out on my forehead. But they didn’t notice. They were too busy pouring Alex his favorite fruit juice. He drained his glass in one gulp and gave me a triumphant smile. “Mr. Davies, thank you for your sacrifice. I’ll work even harder from now on.” Everyone else thought he was talking about the office. I saw something else in his eyes: the unwavering certainty that he would conquer Isabelle and Olivia next. “Well then,” I said, my voice tight, “here’s to you marrying the bosses and reaching the pinnacle of your career.” I clutched my stomach and tried to stand, needing to get to the restroom. Isabelle blocked my path. “A couple of sips of liquor and now you’re acting like you’re dying? Stop the theatrics.” The burning in my stomach was nothing compared to the ache in my heart. I looked up at her, my eyes bloodshot. “I just got out of the hospital for stomach bleeding, and you’re forcing me to drink?” Her hand, which had been pressing against my chest, froze. “Couldn’t you come up with a more believable excuse? You’ve been drinking for years. I’ve never seen you bleed from it.” Olivia, the one who had poured the drink down my throat, scoffed. “I barely got a mouthful in you. You, the man who can drink anyone under the table. Are you serious?” It’s easy to be dismissive when you’re not the one in pain. It used to be that when Olivia saw me drinking with clients, she’d pull me aside and ask, “Simon, there will always be more clients. Is one contract really worth this?” Back then, she and Isabelle would cry seeing me drunk. They’d make me hangover soup, take turns staying up all night by my bedside, just to hand me a glass of warm water if I stirred. The next day, they’d go to the office with dark circles under their eyes and work twice as hard, determined not to let my efforts go to waste. We had survived the hardest years of our startup. They had sworn they would never marry anyone but me. And now, they were using Alex as a weapon to destroy me. “I just need to use the restroom,” I gasped, the pain in my stomach twisting into sharp cramps. I was doubled over, barely able to speak, leaning against the wall for support. A female colleague was the first to notice something was seriously wrong. She stood up to help me. Isabelle shoved her away. “Don’t touch him.” She sneered at me. “Is this how you do it, Simon? Drink a little, then play the weak, vulnerable man to win over your female clients?” The colleague who had tried to help me blushed with embarrassment. “Isabelle, I think you’re mistaken. He really doesn’t look well.” Olivia let out a derisive laugh. “He knows he’s made a fool of himself. This is all an act.” I couldn’t blame her for not believing me. For years, no matter how sick I felt from drinking, I had always pushed through it. This was the path I chose. I had embraced the struggle of building something from nothing, thrived on the sense of accomplishment. In their eyes, I was invincible. Alex, having enjoyed the show long enough, now stepped forward with a glass of hot water, a look of faux concern on his face. “Mr. Davies, no matter how you landed the contract, you’re a hero to this company. We’re all grateful for your contribution.” His words were gasoline on a fire. Isabelle, who had been supporting me, abruptly let go, as if I were something unclean. “If you don’t want to be here, then just go home.” She then walked over to the restroom and began vigorously washing her hands. Under the contemptuous glares of everyone at the table, I clutched my stomach and turned to leave. But Alex stopped me. As he grabbed my arm, the scalding water from the glass he was holding splashed onto both of our hands. I recoiled instinctively, pushing him away. Olivia shot up from her seat, yelling for a waiter to bring an ice pack for Alex. She didn’t seem to notice that the majority of the hot water had landed on me. Alex had a small red patch on his hand. The back of my hand was completely scalded. Isabelle came out of the restroom, saw Alex on the verge of tears, and her anger finally boiled over.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394824”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The IV bag was hanging, a clear pouch of life-saving fluid. As I adjusted the drip rate for the patient, I glanced over and saw her recording a TikTok. Her phone was pointed right at the drip. The caption read: “This little nurse is all dolled up. Guess she has a hot date tonight.” “So I just cranked the drip down to the slowest setting. I’m in no rush.” “LOL. Looks like that date’s not happening.” 1 It started when I was hanging her first bag of antibiotics. She suddenly spoke up. “Honey, how old are you?” I looked at her. She was maybe in her late thirties, early forties, with sallow skin stretched tight over high cheekbones. She wore a bright red dress, the lace trim at the hem frayed and worn. I managed a small, professional smile. “Twenty-three.” “So young,” she said, her eyes raking over me from head to toe. “Seeing anyone?” I was used to this. You deal with hundreds of patients, and the older ones often just want to chat. It’s part of the job. “Nope,” I replied, keeping it brief. A sly grin spread across her face. “Wow, you even wear makeup to work. You’re pretty good at it, too. All dressed up like this… you got a date later?” The truth was, a little makeup was the only thing that made me feel human on these grueling night shifts. It was for me, not for anyone else. But something in her tone, a weird, needling quality, set my teeth on edge. “No,” I said, not feeling the need to explain myself. I focused on gently inserting the needle into the back of her hand. “This is for your pneumonia, right? You have three bags. Just call me when one is finished.” I gave her my standard instructions, emphasizing the important parts. “Please don’t adjust the flow rate yourself. It’s normal to see a tiny bit of blood back up in the tube sometimes, so don’t panic. If you need anything at all, just press the call button.” “Oh, okay, okay, I got it. You go on, get back to your work,” she said, her smile plastered on her face. For a moment, I thought I’d imagined the strange look in her eyes. Night shifts in the infusion ward are pure chaos. I was immediately swallowed by a storm of beeping machines and patient requests, and I quickly forgot about her. After what felt like an eternity of running around, I finally got a moment to breathe. I found an empty stool and sank into it, rubbing the deep ache in my calves. The thought of my day off tomorrow brought a genuine smile to my face. I was just pulling out my phone, thinking about texting a friend to see if she was free, when the call button for that same patient lit up. “What’s wrong?” I asked, pushing myself back to my feet and walking over. “I don’t feel good,” she whined, clutching her chest. “Something’s wrong.” A jolt of alarm shot through me. I immediately checked her chart and the IV bag. “Are you absolutely sure you’re not allergic to penicillin?” She nodded. “I’m sure. I’ve had it before, plenty of times.” The medication was correct, and she had no known allergies. My training kicked in. “Okay, tell me what’s wrong. Where does it hurt? What does it feel like?” “I just… I just feel bad,” she said, her brow furrowed. “I can’t explain it. Wait… oh. I think it’s better now. It’s gone.” I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. As I turned to leave, my eyes caught the IV drip. A single drop of fluid hung suspended, taking forever to fall. Someone had turned the flow rate down to a crawl. My brow furrowed. “Did you touch the dial?” “Oh, that? Was I not supposed to? It felt like it was going too fast, it made me uncomfortable.” I looked down at her, trying to keep my voice even. “The drip rate is set by the doctor for a reason. You can’t just change it. If you’re feeling unwell, you need to tell me.” I reached out and adjusted the dial back to the standard rate. Then, remembering she’d felt sick, I slowed it down just a little, a compromise. “I’ve already slowed it down for you,” I said, my voice firm but polite. “Please, don’t touch it again. Call me if you need anything.” “Okay, okay. Sorry to be a bother.” Her apologies meant nothing. She was a constant, draining presence. Every time I managed to sit down for more than thirty seconds, her light would flash. “Excuse me, honey, do you have a portable charger? My phone’s about to die.” “I’m sorry, we don’t provide those, but there’s a charging station over by the wall,” I said, trying to be helpful. “If you need, I can take your phone over there for you.” “Oh, no thanks. Never mind.” A few minutes later, the light flashed again. I sighed, dragging myself over. “Yes?” “This stuff is so cold,” she complained, shivering dramatically. “It’s making me freeze.” I thought for a second. “I could get you a heat pack?” “No, no, that’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” “It’s no trouble,” I said, waving a hand. I had just gotten back to my seat when, like clockwork, the bell rang again. I was at the end of my rope. “Ma’am, what is it now?” She was smiling that same unsettling smile, pointing toward my little corner. “You must have a date later, right? I saw you smiling to yourself over there.” I had been running nonstop all night. The only time I’d smiled was for a fleeting second, thinking about my day off. A slow burn of anger started in my chest. I fought to keep my voice steady. “I do not have a date. Please, only press the button if you actually need something.” “Okay, okay, sorry. I was just curious,” she said, her smile never wavering. “I just figured, a pretty girl like you, how could you not have a boyfriend?” She looked me up and down again. “I bet you have guys lining up, don’t you? With that fair skin and those big eyes… and your makeup is just perfect.” She leaned in, scrutinizing my face. “You really took your time with this. Must’ve taken you an hour or two, right? What time do you have to wake up in the morning to get all that done?” I was completely fed up. But then I looked at her, alone in this sterile, impersonal room late at night, with no one by her side. A flicker of pity cut through my irritation. Maybe she was just lonely, desperate for someone to talk to. “It doesn’t take that long. Five, ten minutes, maybe,” I said, my tone softening slightly. I was about to gently ask her to stop pressing the button when a thought struck me. It had been over an hour. Her first bag of antibiotics should have been empty by now. I glanced up at the IV stand. The bag was still more than half full. The fluid was dripping at a glacial pace, one drop at a time. She’d slowed it down again. This time, I didn’t hide my frustration. “I told you not to touch the flow rate. You have three bags to get through. At this speed, you’ll be here all night.” “I already slowed it down for you once. Please, stop messing with it.” I reached for the dial, my movements sharp and angry. My only intention was to get her treatment done so she could go home and rest. The plastic chairs in the waiting area were cold and uncomfortable; no one wanted to spend the night in one. But she just sat there, wearing that same infuriatingly cheerful expression. “Oh, dear. Am I going too slow? Am I holding you up from your date? I’m so, so sorry.” My patience snapped. I didn’t say another word. I set the drip to the correct rate and stalked back to my station. At least this time, she didn’t press the button again. I let out a sigh of relief and did one last round through the ward before heading to the prep room to mix medications for the next wave of patients. I had just finished when my charge nurse, Mrs. Davis, came in for her nightly inspection. She did a quick walk-through. “Everything okay out here?” “All good,” I said, shaking my head. “Everyone’s hooked up, and I’ve double-checked all the meds.” “Good work.” Mrs. Davis glanced at my chart. “You’re the most meticulous of the new hires. Keep it up.” She was just turning to leave when the bell chimed again. I looked at the flashing light above the patient’s cubicle and my heart sank. It was her. Again. This time, she’d pushed other patients too far. The man in the next cubicle, who had been trying to sleep with a blanket over his head, threw it off in a rage. “Will you give it a rest?” he snapped. “How many times have you pressed that thing tonight? Can’t you just say what you need all at once? Some of us are trying to sleep here!” The woman flinched, her voice shrinking. “I don’t feel well. I’m not allowed to say so?” Mrs. Davis walked over. “What seems to be the problem? Where are you uncomfortable?” She checked the IV bag and the line. “The medication is fine… wait a minute. Why is this drip so slow?” “It hurts when it’s too fast,” the woman said, darting a look at me. “This young nurse keeps speeding it up. I think I’m keeping her from her date.” She let out a little chuckle. “Young people these days, always have plans, you know? A pretty girl like her, must have a lot of suitors. It’s understandable. I can just take it faster if it’s a problem. I don’t want to mess up her night.” I saw red. “I did not speed it up,” I said, my voice rising. “I set it to the standard rate. In fact, I already slowed it down for you. If you’re in pain, you need to tell me specifically what’s wrong. And for the last time, I don’t have a date. Stop making things up!” The man in the next cubicle chimed in again. “She’s right. The nurse has been over here half a dozen times. You say you’re uncomfortable, she adjusts it for you. What is your problem?” “I don’t have a problem!” the woman shot back, her voice thick with fake outrage. “I’m sick, and I’m not allowed to say so? And you,” she snarled, pointing at the man, “you’re only defending her because she’s pretty. You trying to get her number or something?” The man rolled his eyes. “You’re crazy.” Mrs. Davis took control, her voice calm but firm. “This flow rate is far too slow. You have two more bags after this. You’ll be here all night, and you won’t get any rest. Can you tell me exactly what’s bothering you? We can try a different medication if we need to.” “No, no, that’s okay,” the woman said, waving her hands dismissively. “It’s probably just the needle. I asked this nurse her age, and she’s only twenty-three. She must be a new graduate, right?” “A trainee, I bet. It’s normal for students to not have much experience. It’s okay, I’m not a picky person. I understand.” I felt a surge of fury. I knew, for a fact, that the IV placement was perfect. It was just a simple IV. I’d practiced at home until my hands were sore, and I’d done hundreds at the hospital without a single failure. I clenched my fists. “You said the placement is bad. What, exactly, is wrong with it?” “Oh, how would I know? I’m not the professional here. All I know is that it hurts. And look, there’s blood backing up.” She pointed to her hand. There wasn’t a speck of blood in the line. “Where?” I challenged. “Oh, well, it was there a second ago. It’s probably gone now.” She shrank back into her chair. “Don’t be mad, miss. I won’t say anything else. I’m just not an expert, and it scared me. I didn’t mean any harm.” Mrs. Davis examined her hand carefully. “The needle placement is fine. There’s no blood, and even if there were, a small amount of backflow is perfectly normal. There’s nothing to worry about.” “Oh,” the woman said with a sheepish little laugh. “Well, maybe I saw it wrong. I feel much better now. You can adjust it. It’s fine.” Mrs. Davis reset the flow rate. “Our nurses are all highly responsible professionals. They work their scheduled hours and not a minute less. You can rest assured that someone will always be here for you. If you have a problem, just tell the nurse.” “Heh, heh,” the woman replied with a hollow laugh. … The first bag finally emptied. I went over to change it, my face a mask of professional indifference. The woman’s apple cheeks bunched up in a smile. “I’m so sorry, nurse. This is my first time coming to the hospital by myself, so I was a little scared. Please don’t take it personally.” I took a deep breath. “If there is a problem, let me know, and I will take care of it. I am not leaving early to go on a date. And when my shift ends, another nurse will take my place. This department is staffed twenty-four hours a day. You have nothing to worry about.” “Right, right. You run along now. Sorry again. I’m fine.” I’d dealt with difficult people before; it was part of the job. It wasn’t worth the energy to stay angry. I had other patients to prep meds for. A while later, my work finally done, I walked back through the ward. As I passed the woman’s chair, I saw she was on her phone, her back to me. My eyes snagged on her screen, and I froze. She was posting another TikTok. On the screen was the freshly hung bag of IV fluid. The caption was what made my blood run cold. “This little nurse is all dolled up. Guess she has a hot date tonight.” “So I just cranked the drip down to the slowest setting. I’m in no rush.” “LOL. Looks like that date’s not happening.” My head snapped up, a roaring in my ears. I looked at her IV pole. She had turned the drip rate all the way down. Again.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394823”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 Valerie dropped to her knees on the cold hardwood floor, tears spilling over her lashes. “Arthur, my company is bankrupt. I owe five hundred thousand dollars. We have to break up.” She looked up at me, her eyes brimming with a heartbreaking reluctance. Right as the words left her mouth, glowing lines of text began to materialize in the air between us, hovering like neon ghosts. It was the Chat. [The female lead is so pitiful. She gets framed, goes bankrupt, and now has to leave the man she loves.] [My poor baby hasn’t eaten in three days! The second male lead shouldn’t be so cruel. Just help her pay it off!] [This guy is so slow. If my girl wanted to break up just to keep me from suffering, I’d empty my bank account for her right now!] In my past life, I saw these exact floating comments. Believing Valerie was a tragic victim of circumstance, and blinded by my love for her, I foolishly took on her massive debt. I didn’t know it was a bottomless pit. The moment I paid off the first batch, another wave of debt crashed down on us. When the collectors went after my father, the shock caused him to collapse, coughing up blood. He was rushed to the ICU. I ran to the bank to pay for his life-saving surgery, only to find my accounts completely drained. Valerie had taken every last cent. The Chat kept telling me she was forced into it, that she had no choice. So, swallowing my panic, I went looking for her to beg for the surgery money back. I found her. She was lounging in a luxurious backyard, nestled comfortably in another man’s arms, cooing at a young boy playing on the grass. While I stood there paralyzed by betrayal, a speeding car slammed into me from behind. It was only after my soul left my crushed body that the truth was revealed. The Chat, the floating text that guided my every ruined decision, was an illusion she controlled. And that man holding her? That was her legal husband of ten years. I was nothing but a side piece. A walking wallet to fund their perfect family. Now, breathing the air of a second chance, I looked down at Valerie. “Is that so?” I kept my voice deadpan. “Because I heard Sinclair Corp is doing better than ever. Not exactly the picture of bankruptcy.” Valerie’s face froze. Before she could stumble through an excuse, the glowing text flared again. [She just can’t bear to drag you down with her. She hid the company’s crisis from you!] [Exactly! Remember when she said she was working late? She was out hustling for contracts, drinking with clients until she got a stomach ulcer. The male lead needs to show some compassion!] Valerie bit her lip, looking utterly defeated. “It’s true, Arthur. Sinclair Corp is finished. I just didn’t want you to suffer with me. I know how much you love me, but I can’t let you drown in my mess.” A bitter laugh scraped my throat. In my previous life, she had indeed spent night after night coming home late, smelling of alcohol and expensive perfume. I had believed the Chat. I thought she was grinding for her startup. I found out later she was spending those evenings dining at Michelin-star restaurants and taking luxury vacations with her husband, Dominic, and their kid. I locked eyes with her. “I’ll help you pay the debt, Valerie. But first, I want to see the company’s financial ledgers.” The tragic, brave smile on her face shattered. “Arthur, no. I really don’t need you to ruin your life for this. The ledgers aren’t even with me right now. I… I should just go. I don’t want the collectors tracking me here and hurting you.” She pushed herself off the floor and turned toward the door, her steps agonizingly slow. She was waiting for me to call her back. In my past life, before the Chat even had to prompt me again, my heart had bled for her. I had pulled out my life savings and handed it over, moved to tears by her selflessness. She had wept, throwing her arms around my neck, promising we would be together forever. The very next day, she brought a new wave of collectors to my door. Remembering the agonizing pain of my crushed ribs on the asphalt, I stood perfectly still and watched her back. The glowing text panicked. [Why isn’t he giving her the money? She spent so much on him! Those designer watches, those custom suits, they cost a fortune!] [Right? Even his dad benefited from her generosity. Asking him to pitch in now is the bare minimum. When she bounces back, she’ll treat him like a king!] Reading those words, a wide, humorless grin stretched across my face. “Valerie, wait. Don’t leave. I’ll get some money to help you.” She spun around, her eyes lighting up with barely concealed greed. “Arthur, you are too good to me. I swear, when I get back on my feet, I will never forget what you did for me.” “Give me a second,” I said, turning and walking into the bedroom. I grabbed a large duffel bag and started throwing things into it. The Rolex. The Armani jackets. The limited-edition sneakers. I hauled the heavy bag back into the living room and dumped it at her feet. “Look. These are all the luxury gifts you bought me over the years. I kept them in perfect condition. You can pawn them. They should cover a huge chunk of the debt.” Valerie stared at the pile of clothes and watches, her face draining of color. I smiled, feeling a cold satisfaction. In my past life, I had cherished those gifts. I wore them with pride and spent my own hard-earned money buying her equally expensive jewelry in return. It wasn’t until Dominic was standing over my dying body that I learned the truth. She had bragged to him, laughing about how she used cheap knockoffs to keep her stupid side-guy blindly loyal, tricking him into buying her real diamonds in exchange. I was giving her garbage back to her. “What’s wrong?” I asked, feigning innocent concern. “There’s easily a few hundred thousand dollars worth of stuff here. Add that to whatever savings you have left, and you’re clear.” Valerie’s mouth opened and closed. She couldn’t force a smile. She couldn’t exactly confess that her “generous gifts” were worthless fakes bought from back-alley vendors, not when she was playing the desperate victim. The Chat flared with urgency. [If I could only warn the male lead! She was scammed when she bought those! They’re all counterfeit!] [If she takes that junk to the loan sharks, they’ll beat her to death!] [They’re on their way right now! If he doesn’t just hand over the cash, they’ll break her legs. She’ll never be able to rebuild her company!] Right on cue, a violent pounding shook my front door. A flash of relief washed over Valerie’s pale face. “Open up! Kick the door down! You owe us money, and nobody hides from us!” A harsh, arrogant voice boomed through the wood. “If you don’t open this door in three seconds, we’re coming in, and we’re breaking bones!” I knew that voice. It was the debt collector she had hired to play the villain. It was Dominic. 2 “Arthur, they’re here for me,” Valerie whispered, her voice trembling beautifully. “Let me face them alone. I won’t let them touch you.” She stepped forward, looking like a martyr stepping up to the gallows. But I saw the subtle gleam of anticipation in her eyes. Before I could reply, the front door splintered inward with a deafening crack. Half a dozen men shoved their way into my living room. They were big, tattooed, and carried themselves with practiced menace. Leading them was Dominic. Seeing Valerie and me standing by the sofa, Dominic offered a theatrical, predatory grin. “Well, well. Miss Sinclair. Thought you could skip town with our half a million dollars?” Valerie looked at me with wide, helpless eyes. When I didn’t move a muscle, she bit her lip, reached down, and shoved the duffel bag of “luxury” goods toward Dominic. The floating text went wild. [Arthur, stop her! Don’t be stingy with your money. If they cripple her, your future is ruined!] [He has that life insurance payout from his dead mother! Plus his savings! He has more than enough to cover this!] [If he hesitates now, the childhood best friend is going to swoop in and save her. Then she’ll fall for him out of gratitude, they’ll get rich together, and Arthur will be left with nothing!] I watched the text scroll by. I didn’t feel a shred of pity. The “childhood best friend” the Chat kept hyping up was Dominic himself. The whole thing was a perfectly choreographed play to bleed me dry. Dominic yanked the Rolex out of the bag, inspected it for half a second, and then backhanded Valerie across the face. The slap echoed through the room. “Do I look like a moron to you?!” Dominic roared. “You try to pay off half a mil with Canal Street knockoffs? I’ll shatter your kneecaps right now!” He grabbed her by the hair, his eyes darting toward me, waiting for me to play the hero. Valerie clutched her stinging cheek, tears streaming down her face. She looked at me, a pathetic whimper escaping her lips. I stood there, my hands resting comfortably in my pockets. Seeing my absolute indifference, Valerie dropped the act. Panic flashed in her eyes. “Arthur! You told me about the money your mother left you! Please, just advance me the cash. I swear on my life I’ll pay you back double when the company recovers. We’ve been together for years. Can you really stand there and watch them maim me?” She was openly begging now. I narrowed my eyes. Dominic, realizing I wasn’t taking the bait, tightened his grip on Valerie’s hair. “If you don’t cough up the cash right now, I’m snapping her wrist.” The Chat chimed in again, flashing bright red. [Pay the debt! She has a massive investment coming in a few days! Once it hits, the company is saved. Give her the money now and you’ll be set for life!] [It’s a multi-million dollar contract! Arthur, don’t throw away this golden ticket!] They had planned this down to the last detail. But I wasn’t stepping into their trap this time. “Take it outside,” I said, my voice cold and flat. “I’m not paying a dime of her debt. Those bags of clothes are the only things she left here. Take them and get out of my house.” Valerie’s face twisted in genuine horror. She wrenched herself out of Dominic’s grip and lunged toward me, trying to wrap her arms around my waist. I stepped back and shoved her hard by the shoulder, sending her stumbling into the coffee table. Seeing that I was completely unshakable, Valerie’s mask of the tragic lover finally slipped. A deep, ugly scowl marred her face. She shot a sharp, meaningful look at Dominic. Dominic caught the signal. The playacting was over. “I hate cowards like you,” Dominic sneered. “Your woman owes money, which means you owe money. If she can’t pay, I’ll take it out of your hide.” He gestured to his men. In a heartbeat, they swarmed me, tackling me to the hardwood floor. Valerie stood up, smoothing her skirt. She didn’t look scared anymore. She pointed a manicured finger toward my bedroom, signaling Dominic to go find the money himself. Dominic nodded, stepping over me as his men pinned my arms and legs. He sauntered into my bedroom. A minute later, he walked back out holding a small metal lockbox. He smashed it open against the edge of the kitchen counter. Out spilled a bank card and a velvet jewelry box. He popped the box open, revealing a heavy gold necklace, thick bracelets, and a vintage diamond ring. It was my mother’s heirloom jewelry. The pieces she had saved for her future daughter-in-law. Rage burned in my throat. I thrashed against the men holding me, but a heavy boot pressed down on the back of my neck. Dominic let out a harsh bark of laughter. “Thought you were broke. Look at this stash. You had the money the whole time and you still let her beg. You really are a piece of trash.” My phone suddenly buzzed in my pocket. Dominic raised an eyebrow, reached into my pants, and pulled it out. He answered it on speakerphone. “Is this Arthur?” a frantic voice echoed from the speaker. “Your father collapsed. He’s bleeding internally and we’re rushing him to the emergency room. You need to get here with the deposit for surgery right now, or he won’t make it!” Click. Dominic hung up the phone. The blood drained from my face. I stared up at Dominic, realizing exactly what had happened. “You sent people to my father.” “Maybe I did,” Dominic said, crouching down to look me in the eye. “Consider it interest. You sleep with another man’s wife, you pay the toll.” He grabbed me by the collar and slapped me hard, twice. The metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth. He grabbed a handful of my hair and slammed my face into the floorboards. “Did you really think you were her boyfriend? I’m her legal husband. We’ve been married for ten years. The only reason she tolerates a pathetic loser like you is because you have a fat bank account. If it weren’t for the payout, I would have killed you a long time ago.” I wrenched my head to the side and glared at Valerie. She stood by the window, her arms crossed, looking away. She didn’t say a word. The floating text was dead silent. Dominic grabbed a piece of nylon cord from one of his men. He wrapped it around my wrists, pulling it tight enough to cut off the circulation, and looped the excess around my neck. With a vicious yank, he pulled the cord taut. My airway crushed shut. Black spots danced in my vision as I gagged, kicking my legs against the floor. Right as the darkness started to pull me under, Valerie stepped forward and touched Dominic’s arm. “That’s enough. We don’t have the PIN for the bank card yet. Don’t kill him in his own living room.” Dominic loosened the cord just enough for me to suck in a ragged, burning breath. He squatted next to me and shoved the screen of my phone into my face. “Unlock it.” I gathered the saliva in my mouth and spat a bloody glob right into his eye. Dominic roared, wiping his face, and delivered a brutal kick to my ribs. A sickening crack echoed through the room. My phone started ringing again. The hospital. My father was running out of time. I squeezed my eyes shut, refusing to look at the screen, refusing to give them access. “Unlock the damn phone, or I’ll break your neck right now!” Dominic screamed, his face purple with rage. Valerie let out an exasperated sigh. “His passcode is my birthday.” Dominic tapped the numbers in. A soft chime confirmed the phone was unlocked. He threw his head back and laughed, a cruel, triumphant sound. I bit down on the inside of my cheek until I tasted fresh blood, using the pain to keep myself from passing out. The moment he looked down at the banking app to transfer the funds, I planted my boots on the floor and threw my entire body weight upward, ramming my shoulder directly into his chest. Dominic stumbled backward, dropping the phone. “Hold him down! Pin him!” His thugs slammed me back onto the floor, driving their knees into my spine. “Valerie, get the papers,” Dominic ordered, breathless and furious. Valerie reached into her designer bag and pulled out a manila folder, setting it on the coffee table. Dominic grabbed me by the hair and dragged my face close to the document. “You’re such a good son, right? Well, Valerie is under a lot of financial pressure right now. I think it’s time you made a real contribution.” He grabbed a pen and forced it into my bound, trembling hand. “I think your old man has lived long enough. Sign the Do Not Resuscitate order. Once he kicks the bucket, we’ll take his house and his pension, too.” He pressed his heavy hand over mine, forcing the pen toward the signature line on the medical proxy form.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394822”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I’ve been transported into a novel, playing the role of the male lead in a “stand-in” romance. It was the third year of my marriage to Scarlett Zinberg, and her “white moonlight” finally returned. “You know, I’ve never loved you. This is your compensation.” Scarlett said coldly, handing over a black card. I accepted it without hesitation. “Alright, let’s get divorced tomorrow. I wish you both a lifetime of happiness!” Because I knew that in two months, she would suffer a fire, be disfigured, and lose both her legs. Scarlett Zinberg, at this moment, was dressed in a white haute couture suit and skirt, with long wavy hair and exquisite makeup. Tsk, indeed a domineering female CEO, but unfortunately, she’s about to become crippled. Seeing me take the card and stare at her with a look of regret, Scarlett thought I was having second thoughts. “You’ve taken the card, now you want to go back on it?” Her tone was cold, and her expression held undisguised contempt. I picked up the contract and flipped through it, then said seriously: “My three years of youth are only worth thirty million? Scarlett, you’re the CEO of Zinberg Group, people would laugh if they heard that.” “You need to pay more!” Scarlett’s face instantly darkened. “Jackson Avery, you really only agreed to marry me for my money.” If the original character had heard that, he would have been heartbroken. Before, whenever Scarlett mentioned the name Vincent Sterling, he would be inconsolably sad. In the original story, this scene was even more chaotic. The original character would not only knock her card away but also cry and ask her what those years of companionship meant. Later, when the female lead was secretly meeting her “white moonlight,” he even attempted suicide by slitting his wrists in the bathroom. He loved Scarlett with all his heart, even willing to give up his budding acting career for her. Only because Scarlett said that after marriage, she had to quit the entertainment industry, he willingly became a househusband for her. If it weren’t for the three years of marriage, I believe the original character would have achieved greater things. “You can’t say that. I gave up my beloved job for you back then, shouldn’t you compensate me?” “I’m not like your ‘white moonlight’ Vincent Sterling; he’s now an international A-list star. If everyone knew you betrayed me for him, it wouldn’t be good for his reputation, would it?” My eyes held provocation and threat. “So what do you want?” Scarlett’s teeth gritted audibly. I glanced around the villa and smiled, saying: “This villa goes to me, and another twenty million. One villa, fifty million, to buy Vincent’s reputation—that’s a steal.” Scarlett’s face was grim, as if she had swallowed a fly, and she stared at me intensely. Just as my patience was running out, her red lips parted: “Fine.” “Then Scarlett, please leave my house now. I’m not used to sharing a roof with others.” I smiled as I asked Scarlett to leave, instructing the housekeeper to pack all her belongings. She slammed the door in a rage; no doubt she went straight to Vincent. In the original story, the movie star Vincent Sterling had been inseparable from Scarlett Zinberg since his return to the country. Even when the media caught them, they’d simply claim it was old friends catching up. Because the original character refused to sign the divorce papers, Scarlett and Vincent maintained a secret affair. Until Scarlett’s accident, Vincent distanced himself, but the original character remained by her side, caring for her devotedly. But I’m not a cuckold. I don’t want a woman who doesn’t love me. Scarlett Zinberg, this time I’m eager to see if your “white moonlight” will truly stay by your side and care for you, disfigured and disabled. Lying comfortably in the bathtub, I scrolled through the news. The trending topic of Scarlett picking up Vincent from the airport a week ago was still in the top ten. The hashtag #ScarlettVincentPerfectMatch# remained popular. Netizens commented on the topic: [Can’t you see it yet? That Jackson Avery is just a cheap version of Vincent, a stand-in!] [The real deal is back, the stand-in should be dismissed.] [Serves him right, I never liked him, he doesn’t work hard at all, can’t compare to Emperor Vincent.] … As I faced these comments, a memory suddenly surged into my mind. Three years ago, it was also in this villa. Scarlett was completely drunk, and I helped her to the sofa. She grabbed my hand tightly, her eyes blurry with tears: “Vincent, don’t leave me…” I frowned, gently reminding her that I was Jackson Avery. But she ignored me, pulled my head down, and kissed me. Her soft, hot lips made my head buzz, and I lost all reason. The velvet rug under the sofa was soft; we embraced and tumbled around on it. It wasn’t until she sobered up the next day that she found me holding hangover soup. Seemingly realizing what had happened, she clutched the blanket and frowned, asking me: “Why is it you?” Before I could reply, she said to herself, never mind. Five parts like him, that’s rare enough. Then, she asked me if I would be willing to be with her. My heart skipped a beat, and I said, but I’m just a small artist under your company, how could I be worthy? She reached out and caressed my cheek, smiling. “Do you know why I suddenly called you to drink with me?” “Because the first time I saw you, I thought it was him.” “Who?” I wanted to ask, but ultimately dared not, because a hint of sadness appeared between her brows. It was this striking sadness that captivated me. The absurdity and passion of last night also deeply fascinated me. Just like that, I suddenly went from a third-tier celebrity to the husband of a domineering CEO. There was no wedding, no reception, just a cold social media update from Scarlett. The entire internet exploded, in a frenzy, but the original character was deeply moved, because he was a love-struck fool. Too bad, I hate love-struck fools the most; idiots should die! I texted Scarlett: [What time should we meet at the city hall tomorrow?] She quickly replied: [You, really agree to divorce me?] I impatiently replied, otherwise? Watching you trend with Vincent every day—I don’t have a cuckold fetish. She seemed very angry, replying only two words: [Ten o’clock.] Wrapped in my bathrobe, I began to revel in the spacious villa. After tomorrow, I’ll be a multi-millionaire! Too excited to sleep, I went to the city hall with dark circles under my eyes. Scarlett and Vincent arrived together. Thinking about the paparazzi photos of their candlelight dinner last night, I looked at them with disdain. Truly despicable, spending the night together before the divorce was even final. Seeing my dark circles, Scarlett’s brows furrowed slightly, and her gaze held a hint of mockery. “I suppose you spent the whole night plotting how to get more money, didn’t you?” Vincent also chuckled, “Mr. Avery, do you really think fifty million isn’t enough?” I nodded earnestly, “Hmm, just because of your movie star status, another twenty million.” Only a fool wouldn’t take free money. Scarlett’s face turned ashen, but Vincent stopped her. He pulled out a card from his pocket and handed it to me, “I knew you wouldn’t let go that easily. Here’s fifty million, from me personally. But you must sign an agreement never to interfere with us again.” I took the card, my heart thrumming with excitement. “Don’t worry, I’ll sign all your agreements!” After swiftly signing the papers, I received my divorce certificate. Seeing the undisguised happiness on my face, Scarlett’s expression turned grim, and she asked me: “Aren’t you sad?” I immediately shook my head, “Congratulations, Ms. Zinberg, on being with the person you truly love. I consider my mission accomplished!” Seeing her speechless, I explained using popular internet slang: “The one who isn’t loved is the third wheel, so I know my place.” Vincent, standing by, applauded my clear-headedness, then put an arm around Scarlett’s shoulders, a smug look on his face. “Scarlett, when are we getting married?” My heart blossomed with joy. The thought of Scarlett being disfigured and amputated in two months made me eager for them to marry sooner. Apparently annoyed by my reaction, Scarlett muttered “another day” and stomped off angrily. I felt a little disappointed, but also relieved. After all, I had no ties to her anymore. Whatever happened to her in the future was none of my concern. In the original story, after Scarlett became disabled, the original character, in an attempt to prove his true love for her, eagerly rushed to care for her. When Vincent abandoned Scarlett, she finally realized that only the original character truly loved her, and she confessed her regret. The original character was moved by her and spent the rest of his life with her, disabled as she was. Tsk, the thought of having avoided that fate made me incredibly pleased. In the original story, Vincent had initially broken up with Scarlett because her father’s company was in trouble. Her father suffered a heart attack from stress, and Vincent fled abroad with his money. Later, with the help of Scarlett’s uncle and business partners, the company was saved, but her father passed away not long after. Scarlett took over as CEO and immediately contacted Vincent, confronting him about why he couldn’t stand by her in difficult times. Vincent blamed her deceased father, claiming the chairman had paid him to stay away from her. Hearing this, Scarlett begged him to return, promising that no one would ever stand in their way again, and then forced the original character to divorce. Despicable! Both of them were equally despicable! I suddenly thought of a way to permanently shackle this conniving duo together. 2 Back at the villa, I called my former agent, Agent Rose. She was shocked by my idea of returning to the entertainment industry. “Don’t be ridiculous, didn’t Scarlett dislike you being in showbiz?” I poured her a drink and placed the divorce certificate in front of her. Her eyes widened in shock, and she mumbled, no wonder the news about Vincent and Scarlett has been trending so high recently, and Scarlett hasn’t had anyone take down the hot search. Seeing that I was now free, Agent Rose promised to try and find some opportunities for me. I specified that I wanted to be in the same film crew as Vincent, even if it was just a small role. She said she’d figure something out, albeit with some difficulty. After seeing her off, I switched to enjoyment mode: buying a sports car, pampering myself, and even enrolling in fitness classes. During their three years of marriage, the original character hadn’t bothered much with his fitness or appearance, as he no longer worried about work. In just one month, I regained my broad shoulders, narrow waist, and six-pack abs; my face also became fair and handsome. With the stylist’s efforts, I looked exactly like the handsome young “puppy” I was three years ago. Agent Rose called, saying she had secured me the role of the third male lead; the original actor’s schedule had unexpectedly opened up. I gladly accepted, thanked her, and rushed to sign the contract. Over the past month, news of Scarlett and my divorce had spread. She and Vincent were constantly seen together, practically making their relationship official. Seeing me, a hint of surprise flashed in Scarlett’s eyes. Vincent looked me over and chuckled, “No wonder Scarlett chose to marry you back then. Looking at you now, you do bear some resemblance to me.” Then, he leaned in and whispered in my ear, “A stand-in should know their place. How dare you show up here?” I smiled and said, “Why shouldn’t I? You two aren’t married yet, so you can’t stop me from signing a contract.” Scarlett ultimately didn’t stop me. The movie was about to wrap up, and they couldn’t afford any delays. I was indeed a suitable candidate. Once filming began, Vincent and I often acted opposite each other. He was truly an A-list actor, his performance excellent. I, on the other hand, frequently messed up scenes due to not having acted for three years. Scarlett would often visit the set to bring Vincent snacks and fruit, then turn around and pretend to criticize me, though her gaze was complex. Outtakes of my NG shots were uploaded online, and netizens started criticizing me again. [This pretty boy was dumped by the CEO and still has the nerve to work at her company?] [Such terrible acting, no wonder the CEO chose the movie star over him.] … Faced with these negative comments, I decided to fan the flames. I hired someone to anonymously leak videos of Scarlett wiping Vincent’s sweat and Vincent feeding her fruit on set. The crowd went wild, calling it “so sweet” and wondering if good news was on the horizon. Fandom culture, as it always is, they always want to force their favorite ships together, completely disregarding others. Scarlett and Vincent were being pushed into marriage by the entire internet. Some fan-shippers even staked out their homes and caught intimate footage of the two kissing in a luxury van after work, heading back to the villa together. Thus, at the wrap-up party at the end of the month, Vincent couldn’t resist orchestrating a proposal. In front of all the staff, he knelt on one knee with a large bouquet of roses and placed a diamond ring on Scarlett’s ring finger. “Scarlett, we’ve missed three years. I don’t want to miss you again. Please let me take care of you for the rest of your life, okay?” Scarlett was incredibly moved, took the flowers, nodded, her eyes welling up with tears. I watched from the sidelines, nobody knew I was barely holding back laughter. In ten days, Scarlett was going to suffer a terrible fate. Vincent, you are so selfish, will you really take care of her, disabled, for the rest of your life? Soon, I would find out the answer. Vincent, seeing my inscrutable expression, took her hand and led her to me. “Mr. Avery, thank you for taking care of Scarlett these past three years. From now on, I hope you can keep your distance. After all, you once loved Scarlett so deeply, and the way you look at her makes me uncomfortable.” Scarlett looked at me, a hint of apology and evasion in her eyes. Her gaze towards me had been complex recently, seemingly appreciating my progress and my indifferent attitude towards her. Ultimately, it’s just human nature to want what you can’t have, to be drawn to what remains indifferent. Vincent couldn’t help but notice her attention towards me, which is why he rushed the proposal. I smiled faintly, completely composed: “Alright, this show is wrapped, and my contract with your company is almost up. Don’t worry.” With that, ignoring the disappointment in Scarlett’s eyes, I turned and left. As if unwilling to give up, that night I received a text message from Scarlett. [Don’t you have anything to say to me?] I cursed her inwardly for being such a pain and replied: [Me keeping my distance, isn’t that exactly what you wanted? Congratulations on finding true love.] She didn’t reply again; she seemed quite angry. That night, I saw the trending news: Scarlett announced her wedding to Vincent would be held in Jeju Island a week later, broadcast live online. I was so happy I popped open a bottle of champagne and laughed out loud. Before, I was a little disappointed, as it was just a proposal. Even if Scarlett had an accident, Vincent wouldn’t be obligated to stay with her. But after holding the wedding, it would be different. They would exchange vows, witnessed by the entire internet. Even if Vincent wanted to shirk his responsibilities like in the original story, it would be difficult. Soon, their wedding took place as scheduled. Scarlett posted a set of photos of them happily kissing on the island. I hired some online trolls to question and sing a different tune. Vincent, predictably, couldn’t hold back and posted their marriage certificate. [From today, we are legally married, and I will take care of you for the rest of my life.] I applauded, even giving the post a like. The next day, they both canceled all work and left for their honeymoon. On the third night of their honeymoon, I scrolled past a piece of news. [Zinberg Group CEO suffers severe burns and falls into a coma during hotel fire on honeymoon.] In the comments section, everyone was shocked, leaving messages for Vincent, encouraging him to stay by her side. Vincent, however, wished he could smash his phone: “F**k! The doctor says she’s not only disfigured but also needs amputations. How can I spend my entire life with a cripple?!” The couple’s fans, however, didn’t see it that way. After Scarlett fell into a coma, the comments section was flooded with fans praying for her, even tagging Vincent, lamenting: [Fortunately, big brother is with big sister, no matter how difficult it is, they won’t be afraid!] Vincent’s comments section was also inundated with messages, with fans praising him for being responsible and a true man. Vincent, rendered speechless by the praise, could only grip his phone tightly and curse: “If I’d known this would happen, I wouldn’t have come back! Why did I have to fight that brat for this useless position?!” My account was also flooded with messages from fans, urging me to visit Scarlett in the hospital. After all, we were married for three years, and she didn’t have any deep grudge against me; I just switched companies. These people are always so fantastical, their words like farts. Some fans spoke up for me: [She dumped our Jackson, insisted on being with Vincent, provoked him right to his face, and forced him to switch companies—and that’s not a deep grudge?] [It’s just changing companies, not forcing him out of the entertainment industry. Not going means holding a grudge, your idol has such a small mind!] [No wonder he’s a flop, too petty!] I was amused by these people’s values, but I did decide to go see Scarlett. For no other reason than to see her miserable state.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394821”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

At the welcome back dinner, my boyfriend peeled a shrimp for me. His childhood friend pouted beside him: “Brother, why don’t you peel one for me? You’re playing favorites~” My boyfriend’s usually cool face instantly flushed crimson. To ease the awkwardness, I raised my hands and said, “My nails are too long, you see. I’ll let your brother peel one for you in a bit.” At my words, the friend shot me a hysterical glance. “I’m so jealous of Sister Anya for having such long nails. “Unlike me, I have to do housework every day, and I’ve never had a manicure…” 1 The dinner table instantly fell silent. Only the faint clinking of cutlery against porcelain broke the quiet. My male best friend, Chris Donovan, sat opposite me, his brow deeply furrowed. He slammed down the wine glass he had just raised. I, too, let my smile fade, offering no response. Willow’s words were venomous. With Frank Hayes’ intelligence, he could surely discern the hidden meaning in Willow’s statement. After all, when I was abroad, he often shared posts about “green tea” girls in our country. Back then, he’d often tell me that those “green tea” girls were so amateur, he could spot them a mile away. Yet now, after hearing Willow’s words, he merely turned to her and asked: “Why are you still doing housework? Didn’t you say your new job was very busy?” Willow bit her lower lip, her eyes instantly reddening. She lowered her head and said, in a wronged tone: “Frank, you know my family’s situation right now… Mom’s not well, so no matter how busy I am, I have to share the household chores.” She looked up, but avoided my gaze, timidly saying: “Not everyone can enjoy life like Sister Anya. I also want to get a manicure, but circumstances don’t allow it…” The two of them carried on, oblivious to anyone else, enacting a scene of deep childhood friendship. Chris finally couldn’t hold back. He crossed his arms and let out a cold laugh: “Willow, right? If you want to talk about your own misery, just talk about yourself. Why drag Anya into it? “What, Anya’s family is wealthy and she’s pampered? That’s her good fortune. Who are you being passive-aggressive for?” Frank seemed to just realize this was my welcome-back dinner. He turned, his gaze sharply sweeping over Chris. Then he looked at me, finally saying in a low voice to Willow, “Let’s eat first; we’ll talk afterward.” Willow’s tears instantly welled up and fell. “Frank, I didn’t mean it… Do you think I’m being annoying?” “Today was supposed to be Sister Anya’s welcome-back dinner, and you insisted on bringing me along, but I ended up spoiling it for everyone… “I’ll just leave now…” She said, making to stand up. Frank grabbed her wrist, stopping her. Every word she spoke revealed the depth of her relationship with Frank – that he had “insisted” on bringing her. The other girls at the table, all my university classmates, exchanged glances, cautiously observing my reaction. Chris gritted his teeth, ready to stand up and confront them. I reached out and gently pressed his arm. Frank keenly noticed my physical contact with Chris. His gaze instantly turned cold, fixated on Chris’s arm, which my hand was resting on, and he asked me in an unfriendly tone: “Mr. Donovan seems to have a strong opinion about Willow?” I still held Chris’s arm, not letting go. I simply turned to Willow, forcing a smile that held no warmth in my eyes: “How could that be? I think Willow is quite popular.” I paused, then slowly continued: “Yesterday, Frank’s cousin, Aaron, told me he sent you a large bouquet of 99 red roses the day before, and you accepted them.” I watched Willow’s face instantly stiffen, my smile deepening: “You have feelings for him too, don’t you?” 2 I did indeed have Aaron Hayes’ WhatsApp. As a distant branch of the Hayes family, that kid often asked me for favors back in the day. Yesterday, when he asked me about my return date, he casually mentioned that he was aggressively pursuing Frank Hayes’ “pitiful” childhood friend, Willow. Willow’s family and the Hayes family used to be neighbors and were very close. However, after Willow’s father succumbed to gambling, losing all their assets, they moved from the villa district to a resettlement area, and the two families gradually drifted apart. But I never expected that Willow’s connection with the Hayes brothers, Frank and Aaron, had never been severed. It was even this close. I just didn’t know if Frank knew about the bouquet of roses. After speaking, I took a sip of red wine, my gaze over the rim of the glass, glancing at Frank opposite me. He remained calm and unperturbed, as if he hadn’t heard. But his fingers gripping the wine glass were slightly white at the knuckles. My friends beside me reacted quickly, immediately starting to chatter and tease Willow: “Oh my god, 99 red roses? That definitely means he’s pursuing you!” “You accepted the flowers, so something good must be happening soon, right?” “Willow, why didn’t you bring that guy with you today? Did you not invite him?” “Aaron might be a cousin, but he’s quite accomplished in the Hayes family. Willow, you’re so lucky.” They spoke one after another, though their faces held smiles, their words implicitly confirmed Willow’s suspicion of “two-timing.” Willow, being roasted alive like this, finally couldn’t maintain her delicate, pitiful facade. She waved her hands frantically, explaining urgently: “No… no! Those flowers… I thought Aaron had no use for them anymore… “Sister Anya, you’ve misunderstood Aaron. He’s not pursuing me; we’re just like siblings…” She instinctively turned to look at Frank, her eyes full of pleading, but then shifted her attack to me: “I’m so jealous that Sister Anya and Aaron are so close; she’s only just returned and already knows so much about Aaron’s private life.” This tactic of deflecting blame was skillfully executed. Frank, predictably, shifted his scrutiny from her to me. He narrowed his eyes, his gaze holding a mix of inquiry and displeasure: “You and Aaron talk a lot? You were chatting with him before you even landed yesterday?” I put down my wine glass, the glass base clinking sharply on the table. “Are you asking this because you’re jealous of Aaron? Or are you worried I found out something I shouldn’t have?” 3 I majored in psychology abroad. Willow’s previous statement was meant to lure me into a self-incrimination trap. If I explained, “it was just casually mentioned,” or “I don’t contact him often,” then I would become the weak party under interrogation, and by default, I would be agreeing that I needed to report my contacts with other men to Frank. I had to address his motive, not prove my innocence. The moment I asked, Frank was speechless. He probably never expected that I, usually gentle and magnanimous, would be so sharp. Frank and I were introduced by our families, a typical business arrangement. Well-matched in social status, bound by mutual interests. Over the two years we’d been together, though there were no dramatic passions, our relationship was stable and respectful. We were both sensible and polite individuals; our conversations had never been this tense or filled with hostility before tonight. Even when I went abroad to study and he was so busy in the country that he didn’t reply to my messages for three consecutive days, I had never questioned him so boldly. His face kept changing. It was shock, the anger of having his thoughts exposed, and perhaps even a touch of panic at the situation spiraling out of control. Since this fire had already started, I would let it burn brighter. Before anyone could react, I took out my phone and dialed Aaron Hayes directly. The phone rang twice before connecting. “Hello? Sister Anya? What’s up?” Aaron’s nonchalant voice came from the other end. I put it on speaker, and my voice echoed clearly through the private dining room: “Aaron, I’m having dinner at the Pavilion. Your brother and Willow are here too. Since everyone’s here, why don’t you come over?” With that, without waiting for a reply, I hung up. Willow’s face instantly turned ashen, and she looked at Frank in terror. Frank abruptly stood up, his chair scraping against the floor with a harsh sound. He suppressed his anger, growling: “Anya Shen, do you have to do this?! “Do you think things aren’t chaotic enough?!” I leaned back in my chair, arms crossed, watching him calmly: “Since it’s a misunderstanding, calling the person here to clarify face-to-face, how does that make it chaotic? “Or are you afraid that if Aaron comes, some of your little act won’t be able to continue?” 4 Willow finally broke down, covering her face and sobbing softly, as if she had suffered an immense wrong. “Sister Anya… why are you making things so difficult for me… “Can’t I just leave…” Chris scoffed from the side, speaking for me: “It’s just calling Aaron over, how is that making things difficult for you? “Weren’t you happy when you received the flowers? Is it a misunderstanding or not, the person will be here soon to clear your name, why are you crying?” Frank sharply interrupted Chris, pointing at me with a stern tone: “Anya Shen, you’re being overly dramatic! Willow is sensitive; with so many people here, why do you have to make such a scene to embarrass her? “She’s my little sister, whom I’ve grown up with since childhood!” As he spoke, he pulled out his phone, about to call Aaron to tell him not to come. Watching his impatient eagerness to protect Willow, the last trace of warmth in my heart completely froze. “Don’t want to face the situation after he arrives? “Afraid that your self-proclaimed unique position in her heart will be shaken? Or afraid that you’ll discover your deep affection was misplaced?” Frank’s movements stiffened. He narrowed his eyes and looked at me, his gaze icy cold: “What do you mean?” My best friend, Lisa, who had been silent by my side, finally couldn’t hold back. She muttered softly, her voice not loud, yet clear enough for everyone present to hear: “What’s with the act… Six months ago, I accidentally guessed Frank’s social media password, and he had posted private messages there only visible to one person… “Things like ‘waiting for you to grow up,’ ‘my forever knight,’ and so many photos of Willow… terribly ambiguous.” Silence once again fell over the private room. Willow suddenly looked up, denying vehemently: “That’s just because we’re close, Brother has always treated me like a sister!” Frank’s face completely darkened. He stared intensely at me, his eyes filled with disappointment and disgust: “Anya Shen, I never realized how manipulative you are. “You usually act so composed, yet secretly you pry into others’ privacy? And even go through old social media posts?” Lisa stood up, fuming, to explain: “I was just curious and tried it myself; I only mentioned it to Anya. “Anya even spoke up for you then, saying those were things of the past and she didn’t care about your history. How can you be so ungrateful?!” Yes, I really didn’t care about his past. Who hasn’t been young and foolish? Who doesn’t have a childhood friend? I also have my purely platonic best friend, Chris; our relationship is transparent and honest. Moreover, I went to study abroad after Frank and I officially started dating. Before I left the country, Frank had solemnly promised our parents that we were headed for marriage. He said we were well-matched, similar in personality, and the most suitable partners for marriage. Even after I went abroad, despite the time difference, he tried his best to accommodate my schedule. Last Christmas, he even turned down contracts worth tens of millions to fly to London to spend Christmas with me. We held hands and watched fireworks by the Thames. All these good things, I saw and kept in my heart. So I thought I could overlook his past, and I could even tolerate his “sibling affection.” But tonight’s welcome-back dinner completely opened my eyes. If I married him, it would mean constantly having to tolerate Willow, this “sister,” coming between us. Always having to give in to her, always watching her perform, always being held hostage by Frank’s logic of “she’s weak, so she’s right.” The thought of such a life was suffocating. 5 Aaron Hayes arrived even faster than expected. Everyone held their breath, waiting for the show. But the moment the door was pushed open, Frank, as if startled, grabbed Willow’s hand and made to leave. “Let’s go, this meal is impossible to eat.” His face was cold, and he didn’t even spare Aaron a glance as he entered. I remained in my seat, unmoving. Just as he was about to step out of the private room, I spoke coldly: “Frank Hayes. If you take her out that door right now, our engagement can be considered over.” Frank’s footsteps halted. He turned, his gaze icy cold, looking at me as if I were an unreasonable shrew: “Anya Shen, there’s no need to be so aggressive. It’s just a meal, why do you have to make it a life-and-death struggle?” I stood up, walking towards him step by step, my high heels clicking decisively on the floor. It wasn’t until I stood before him that I retorted: “Who am I forcing? Did I make her cry at my welcome-back dinner? Did I make her publicly shame me for not doing housework? Did I make her accept another man’s flowers and then act innocent here?” Perhaps my presence was too intimidating; as I passed the doorway, I accidentally bumped into a waiter who was cautiously entering with a wine cooler. The waiter’s hand trembled, and the red wine bottle tilted. The dark red wine instantly spilled out, landing squarely on Willow’s pristine white dress. “Ah—!” Willow shrieked, shrinking into Frank’s arms. Aaron pushed open the door just in time to see this scene. From his perspective, he only saw me aggressively approaching, and then Willow was splashed with wine. His face instantly turned extremely grim, and he rushed over, asking: “Willow! What happened?!” Willow trembled all over, her voice tearful, yet she didn’t forget to “exonerate” me: “It’s okay… Aaron… Sister Anya didn’t mean it… “Don’t get angry with Sister Anya because of me… It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have come…” With that, she covered her face and made to cry and leave. Frank grabbed her hand, then forcefully pushed me. The force was so great that I stumbled back two steps, nearly hitting the corner of the table. Chris quickly steadied me, roaring, “Frank Hayes, what are you doing?!” Frank pointed at my nose, his eyes filled with disappointment and fury: “Anya Shen, I used to think you were cultured, generous, and gentle. I never imagined you’d resort to such petty tricks! “Publicly splashing someone with wine? Is this the upbringing of your Shen family? I truly misjudged you.” Looking at his righteous, protective demeanor, I suddenly felt utterly nauseated. My stomach churned. I took a deep breath, broke free from Chris’s support, and strode forward. I raised my hand. “Splat—!” A sharp slap echoed through the private room, even overpowering the background music. Frank’s face snapped to the side, a clear imprint of five fingers instantly appearing on his cheek. The entire room was silent. I shook my tingling palm, a cold sneer on my lips: “Misjudged me? Fine, Frank Hayes, that slap was for myself. “Since we’re settling scores, let’s settle them properly.” I stared into his shocked eyes, enunciating each word: “I recall your family’s new energy business in Europe was expanded through my family’s connections, wasn’t it? “It was I who braved a blizzard to run to a factory for you to negotiate when I was studying in the UK, and it was I who helped you connect with several key parliament members. “Since you say you misjudged me, and you think I lack proper upbringing, fine. Since those connections were established by me, I also know how to retract them.” The moment I finished speaking, before Frank could say anything, Aaron beside him got annoyed. He scoffed, his face full of disdain: “Sister Anya, you really think too highly of yourself, don’t you? “Stop using your family’s connections to pressure my brother. If our Hayes family truly had no capabilities, your Shen family’s connections wouldn’t do any good. “Business dealings are mutually beneficial, you think it’s your charity?” No effect? I looked at these arrogant and blind brothers, finding them utterly ridiculous. They must have been in good times for too long, forgetting what true resource barriers were. To actually choose to oppose an engagement, and their own interests, for the sake of this woman, Willow. I smoothed my slightly disheveled skirt, regaining my usual elegance and composure. “No effect, you say?” I scoffed, my gaze sweeping over Frank’s still-stunned face, finally settling on Aaron: “Then let’s test it out.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394820”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel